The Hidden Hills
by starsailor iphigenia
Summary: Freylin AU. When Arthur dies, the island of Brittania is trapped in a pocket universe. When he awakes, the rest of the earth has progresssed thousands of years into the future and is rapidly destroying itself. Portals have opened between the two worlds. Arthur and Merlin must find a way to help the refugees who pass through the portals hoping for a better life in Camelot. (1/3)
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place in an alternate universe where the episode ''The Lady of the Lake'' never happened, to give me more room to play with the fascinating but (in my opinion) underdeveloped and underused character of Freya. She is in this story, although it may not seem like it at first - there is a reason why it isn't told from the perspective of Merlin or Arthur. Slight crossover with Doctor Who and mentions of numerous other fandoms**.

The gravel crunched under her feet as she ran. It was strange. The light in the sky was bright, but the air was moving unpredictably around her face, and it was not warm. Lights had always meant warmth in the past. It really was different Outside. She had forgotten that. Somehow it had all been so different when she was four years old. The sun had been warm, the grass had been soft, and the mud she had carefully made from dirt in the garden - an actual garden, with plants to eat that came out of it! - had been squishy and so much fun to squeeze into the molds.

Now the sun was painful, the air was freezing, and the ground was very, very hard. She ran through the park. It was noontime, and all the adults who had clearance for this area were on their food shift. Somewhere else. The park was empty. She had planned it that way. They really had been stupid to give her this section to Monitor. It had brought back all the memories they had taught her to suppress at the school. The memories of wind and light and love and freedom.

She wondered if her parents were enjoying life as workers in the freedom of the fields. Their expertise had been valued. She had gotten pictures of them every year, smiling in their labs overlooking the huge monocropped fields. How she had wished to join them, but they had always said, soon. Complete your education, become a qualified Monitor. You have rare skills and a good keen intelligence, even if it expresses itself in words instead of numbers. When you have fulfilled your potential and become qualified and classified as Adult, we will make a space for you, and we will be a family again.

But a Monitor's job was draining, and she hated the illogical rules of the school. And so, just for disagreeing without ever actually breaking a rule, she had been branded a delinquent and sent back to first grade. Sent to a special school, where the work was so easy the bacteria on her toothbrush could do it and her job as a fill-in Monitor began to consume her thoughts.

The heavy running footsteps of the guards were far behind her now. She was almost there. The Clever Ones had helped her escape, sent her the map inside their minds as she Monitored. She was nearly there.

Hell. A squad of guards appeared. She could not run to the hidden tunnel in the thickness of the wall now. Well, she could, but that would give it away to the guards, and put other people in danger. Not that she actually knew any of them except for the one who had spoken the words into her mind, but still. People had broken free of the rules and were doing their own thinking. She loved that thought. She would give her life for that thought. She slid on the horrible loud gravel and changed direction.

A shot rang out. A bullet buried itself in her thigh. Her sides were already aching, her torn shoulder muscles itching and burning. It was an old injury from a fight. The clever people were always targets of the sullen. And she was no fighter. She had been lucky to get away with a torn shoulder muscle as the only long-term result. She staggered, limping forward at a slow run from sheer momentum.

If the guards were shooting, then they don't want me alive. No one wants me. Except my parents. And they can't help me. I'm the property of the government now. Stupid. Stupid. She could feel the warm blood leaking down her leg and soaking the fabric of her trousers. She stopped just around a bend in the path. It was lined by thick green bushes just here. The guards wouldn't know which way she had turned. It was a few seconds to say goodbye.

And then she saw it. Ahead of her, the path led into a dark woodland. The trees there grew as they pleased, wild and thick. It was a tiny patch, she knew. A scrap of the old world that for some reason no one had ever been able to tame.

She staggered forward, pleading within herself. "If I must die, let it be there, under freedom and clear light. Out of sight of the buildings and the signs. I never belonged here. It's not my world."

The forest seemed to leap up to meet her as she ran towards it. The guards were closing in on her now. She looked back just once, and saw them only fifty feet behind. They weren't even running now, just jogging. They were laughing at the trail of blood on the ground.

"Why do you run to the trees, fifty-seven?" one of them called. "You'll still die, and like a barbarian."

She reached the first tree and stood supporting herself on the trunk. She looked back at the men. They had stopped too, grinning. "I want freedom," she said defiantly.

"That's what you're getting, sweetheart," they said. "Best thing for people like you, the ones who don't fit in."

She turned back to the tree. The horizon beyond it shifted and changed. No longer was it just a few hundred square feet of rather weedy woodland. Now there were mountain peaks, capped with glistening snow, and valleys of the most beautiful green, and spires of smoke from distant fires. She stared, mesmerized. If that was death, she should have tried it long ago. Perhaps the little blue men in the wonderful storybooks were right, and the living were merely waiting to be dead again. Or was it the other way round? Anyhow, at this particular moment, she thoroughly agreed with the fuzzily remembered philosophy of the Nac Mac Feegle. No king, no queen, no master.

The hissing noise behind her made her turn. The guards had all raised their guns. "No hard feelings, cutie, but orders is orders. Runaway delinquents with a Independent Thought rating of above fifteen percent must be executed. Government orders."

She turned and ran towards the mountains. Unseen by anyone and unnoticed by her, the iris of her eyes glowed golden for a second.

The firing squad followed. They ran until there were no more trees. They stopped, puzzled. It was a blind alley, surrounded by metal walls on all sides. The trail of blood led straight up to the very edge of the forest soil and vanished. The golden-haired girl had disappeared.

0000

She stumbled forward, sprawling painfully on the ground. The trees around her were suddenly pitch black. She pushed herself up with her hands, ignoring the pain from her shoulder. She fumbled in her pockets and found a napkin taken from the breakfast table on the basis that you never know when you might need a strong piece of absorbent paper. She clumsily tied it around the wound in her leg. That hurt, so much.

There was a light ahead! An unsteady, flickering kind of light. Perhaps it was a trap. She hesitated, and then thought, "I think I'm dead, anyway, and if I'm not I soon will be. So perhaps the light means people, people with painkillers so I can at least die in relative comfort."

She managed to get to her feet and walk slowly towards the light. Suddenly, a pair of arms seized her from behind in a crushing grip and a voice in her ear demanded "Who are you?"

"Please," she gasped. "It hurts. Can you help me?" She clenched her jaw. She would not cry. Crying was stupid.

The arms relaxed a little and she felt a light touch run down her body. "No weapons, girl? That's dangerous out here." Her captor sniffed. "Is that blood? Are you hurt?"

"My leg. Upper. Left. Shot," she said as the world went very small and narrow, with wide margins populated in dancing dark sparkles. She had a brief glimpse of a tall, blond young man with gleaming metal on, and then everything went peaceful and painless.

0000

She woke up next to a fire. She tried to squirm away from it.

"Easy now," said a voice. It was the man. He was kneeling beside her, doing something to her wound that made her stiffen all over and dig her nails hard into her palms to keep from screaming. "I have to stop the bleeding," he said apologetically. For such a big man - and he was huge - he had gentle fingers, she decided.

"Give her a bit of the pain potion," said someone else. This was a man sitting on the other side of the fire. He was also wearing one of the funny metal shirts, and a big red piece of fabric over it. It looked like a curtain. He tossed a little glass bottle to her attendant.

"I'm afraid this tastes rather nasty, miss, but it will take away some of the pain," he said. "Open your mouth."

She looked at him nervously.

"I will not harm you in any way, miss. You have my sworn oath. And neither will my friend, Sir Leon."

What else could happen? She opened her mouth and swallowed the bitter dose.

"And now you should sleep," said the man, covering her with another of the heavy red curtains. It smelled of smoke and metal and sweat.

0000

The two men had horses, real horses, that they actually rode on. If she hadn't been in so much pain, she would have been elated to see that. As it was, she lay limply in the crook of her rescuer's arm and watched the scenery pass by very slowly, clenching her teeth at the worst jolts.

The big man who had caught her was called Sir Percival, and his friend was Sir Leon. It was odd that they put their last names first, but perhaps they were from one of the old Asian cultures. Anyhow, they were kind and doled out the painkillers generously. And she was alive.

They rode all day until sundown and then stopped for the night. The two men set up a little camp with a fire and let her lie wrapped up in the big red curtain, which she found out was a cloak, an actual cloak like in the storybooks. Who had cloaks nowdays? No one.

They didn't try to make her talk. She was very relieved and very surprised. They had only asked her her name, and after that, just inquired politely about her comfort. They kept calling her 'miss', too. That was odd. Archaic, even. And they had seemed bewildered by the fact that she had no legal name now that she was a delinquent. She was Fifty-Seven. That was all anyone would ever call her, and it was no use trying to be - horror of horrors - 'creative' about her label.

The second day of slow jolting travel on horseback was sheer agony. Sir Percival was kind enough to give her an extra dose of the bitter painkiller, and she drifted into merciful unconsciousness as the unpleasantly hot sun reached its full height in the clear blue sky.

0000

She woke up again in a narrow bed. It was soft, and the blankets were warm. That was good. But it wasn't her bunk in the school. The room was smaller, and there was no one else in it. The walls were - she squinted at them - stone? Weird. And there were real windows in the walls, tall narrow ones with a grid of wood or something over them like a really wide-meshed screen. She knew they were real windows leading to the real Outside, because a breeze was blowing through them and she could smell real Outside smells. No chemical dispenser and screen arrangement had ever been able to come close to the real thing.

Someone came into the room. It was a plump woman with a round face and kind eyes. She looked inquiringly down at the girl, and put a hand on her forehead. The girl flinched.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you. I've been looking after you. My name is Alice."

The girl stared up at her. She was an old woman, old enough to be retired. But her eyes still looked young. She wasn't broken and thoughtless like all the other old people she had seen.

"Sir Percival says you are called Fifty-Seven?"

The girl nodded.

"Do you have another name? One that isn't a number?"

The girl shook her head.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to think of one later. Don't worry! You've been very sick, but we got the little piece of metal out of your leg. You'll recover completely; you're young. You may have a limp for while, but that's only to be expected."

"What are you?"

The woman looked puzzled for a few seconds, then smiled. "I'm the town doctor. I know. I don't look like one. But I am one of the best healers in the land, if I may say so."

She gave the girl some queer-tasting medicine and left. The girl didn't wonder too much about where she was. She was away from the people who tried to do her thinking for her. That was enough. She could feel their absence. Her portal no longer connected. It was glorious.

0000

The woman - who insisted that the girl call her Alice - came and went many times over the next four days. On the fifth day, the girl was strong enough to sit up and begin to take notice of her surroundings, and remember the men in the trees who had presumably brought her here.

This time, when Alice came in, she had a look of suppressed excitement. "You have a visitor," she said. "She won't stay long, but she wants to talk to you."

"I don't know anyone here," the girl said quietly. Then her eyes widened in panic. "Do I?"

Alice hurriedly reassured her. "No, child, you've never met her. But she wants to talk to you. Please answer her questions." She smiled at her and hurried out the door. There was some murmuring in the space outside, and then another woman came in.

She was younger than Alice, probably in her mid-twenties. She had skin the color of coffee with cream and thick curling dark hair and the biggest, brownest eyes the girl had ever seen. The girl thought she was beautiful. She carried herself with dignity.

"Hello. My name is Guinevere," she said, and smiled.

The girl nodded.

"Do you want to know where you are? Or have you already guessed? How much did the Clever Ones tell you?"

The girl stared. "Are you one of them?"

"No. But I know of them."

"They said they knew of a land where people are free to think for themselves and they do not have to work for a company."

Guinevere nodded. "That is true. You are in that land. You found the entrance for yourself." Her long skirt rustled as she sat on a chair beside the bed. "The Clever Ones got their start here. Some of them found your world and began to help people like you. They would have brought you here after making sure that you were not a spy. But you came here yourself." Her eyes were gentle. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know. I escaped from the special school and made it all the way into the Outside, and into a little park that they had told me to go to. But there were guards near the entrance to the escape path, and they would have seen me go in. So I turned away, and then they shot me. I thought I was going to die, and if that was true, I wanted to die in the woods. So I ran to the little bit of forest in the park. And then suddenly it was nighttime and I saw a light and then the big man caught me." Her voice was level.

"Good for you." Guinevere patted the girl's hand. "Did they explain how our worlds fit together?"

The girl shook her head.

"Then I will explain. This world you are in now lies over the one you come from. It occupies the same space and time but is in a different dimension. Think of it as two big rooms with their walls pressed together on one side. There is one big doorway between the two, but there are also lots and lots of secret doors. You stumbled through one of those doors. That's how you came here. The bits of your world that look funny are really bits of ours, and the same is true here. But most people can't just slip through like you did. You must really want to come to fit through."

"What does being in a different dimension mean? What's different?"

Guinevere looked impressed. "Some things that are stories in your world are real in this one. Dragons, for instance, and unicorns. They are real creatures here, like bears and wolves. And some basic laws of your universe are more like suggestions here. They can be broken by some special people. But those skills are dangerous and rather discouraged. They brought this catastrophe on us in the first place. We used to be part of your world, many hundreds of years ago, but those people messed about with space and sent us into a sort of bubble universe. At least, that's what the scientists say. All I personally know is that the whole land slept for hundreds of years. Think of it. Every living creature asleep for centuries. And then a few years ago we all began to wake, and some of the dead began to return. In a good way," she added quickly, with a little laugh in her voice. "Not like zombies. Like they had been before."

"Why did you wake up?"

"We don't know. We're still finding sleeping villages. That's what Leon and Percival were doing when they found you." She hesitated. "I know that stories are discouraged in your world, but did you ever hear the tale of King Arthur?"

The girl looked blank.

"The Sword in the Stone?" Guinevere tried.

The girl nodded. "The king who got a sword out of a rock and won a battle and then died and is waiting for the next big battle?"

"That's the one. This is his kingdom. It's called Camelot. His name is Arthur Pendragon. I'm the Queen."

A little smile touched the girl's mouth. "You're awfully nice for a queen. I thought they were supposed to be above the people."

"Not queens like me," said Guinevere firmly, smiling too. "So if you want to stay here - " She left the sentence hanging.

The girl thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded.

"You will have to fit in, and work for your keep. We are at war, after all."

"With whom?"

"With your world. They view us as a threat. They don't know we exist, but they still attack us." She got up. "When Alice says you can walk, you will go talk to the King. He will help you find a place to live and a job, and you will be given a citizenship here." She smiled again and left.

0000

The girl gained strength quickly. Three days after the Queen visited her, she was able to limp around her little room. She spent most of her days after that sitting by the window looking out over the town.

She was in a big stone building, apparently. A real castle. And below it and all around it was a town. There were other towns in the country, but this one was the most important. It was where the King and Queen lived. And there were knights, real ones that wore metal armor and rode horses.

The girl was thrilled.

The castle was very old, but they had been taking pains to adapt technology from her world to it. Running water was one of their favorite inventions, and so were closed stoves. But the King did not allow electricity in his lands. The girl approved. If they had that, then the Monitors could listen to the thoughts of anyone with a portal. And she did not want that.

She could feel it cold against the back of her spine. She wished she could tear it out, but it was impossible for her to reach it and she didn't know how. She barely remembered life without it. She had been five when it was put in. From the age of six she had been able to link her mind directly into other peoples', and into the humming web of the Internet. She had become so adept at manipulating the interface that she had been the youngest person ever to be trained as a Monitor. And that was where the trouble had started.

Alice knocked gently on the door and came in. "Are you ready, child? Good." She looked the girl over one last time and led her to the door. She was going to see the King.


	2. Chapter 2

The castle seemed to be made mostly of really long, cold, corridors. She had been allowed out of her room to walk down a flight of stairs and sit in the sun in a big kitchen garden, but that was as far as her exploration had gone as yet. Now Alice led her down the stairs in the opposite direction, out of the infirmary wing of the castle and down into a big courtyard paved with stone. Across from them, there was a big staircase going up to a dark doorway. There were horses standing saddled there. As they crossed the space slowly - for she could not walk quickly yet, although there was no more constant pain - she saw the big knight who had found her come down the stairs and get on one of the horses. He rode it off towards a little archway, but before he went he smiled and waved to her. She smiled back.

The boundaries between Inside and Outside were negligible here. No locked doors, no codes, no permission slips. The girl loved it. That was how she remembered her family home.

0000

The throne room was big and built of wood and stone. It must have been incredibly expensive, she thought, and then thought again. If it was built hundreds of years ago, the builders had used what was available. But it was still beautiful.

She only got a glimpse of the throne room through the open doors as Alice led her past. They entered a small room further down the corridor. There were two knights on guard. One of them entered the room ahead of them.

"Alice and the girl, sire," he said, and then hurried out again. The girl couldn't see the point. Surely the King could see that for himself.

He was not what she had expected. He was sitting at one end of a long rectangular table. The Queen sat on his right side. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and he was young. He couldn't be more than thirty at the oldest. His face managed to look both young and dignified. The girl liked him on sight.

Alice bowed. "Here is the girl, sire."

The King smiled at her. "Thank you, Alice." He had a nice smile. It was slightly crooked and warm and real. He was so different from the broadcast pictures of the politicians of the girl's world.

He gestured to the chair at the end of the table nearest to the girl. "Sit down." Alice helped her sit and then went out of the room. The girl looked alarmed.

"It's all right. She'll be back," said Guinevere reassuringly. "But the things we are going to talk about are personal. She didn't want to intrude."

"I'm Arthur," said the King. "And you're from the other world. The other side, as we call it." He slid a few pieces of thick paper down the table to the girl. "Is this you?"

She looked at the documents in amazement. They were copies of her birth certificate, fingerprints, school records, job accomplishments, and criminal record - for everyone who was a delinquent was automatically a criminal.

"Yes."

"So your birth name is Naira Hallie Parker? You have just turned seventeen?"

"Yes."

"But you legally have no name now and are known by a number?"

"Yes."

"Well, we don't work like that here. Everyone deserves a name. So if you want, I can put your birth name down as a citizen. Or you can pick a new name. After all, you're starting a new life." The King smiled.

"May I think about it?"

"Of course. If you like, I will give you a list of common names here. They are a little different from the ones in your world. It might help you choose."

"I think I know the name I want," she said slowly. He looked surprised.

"You can take as long as you want to think about it. Now, about your future. I am happy to accept people from your world as citizens of my kingdom. Especially one like you, who apparently has an Independent Thought rating of ninety-five percent. I've only ever met one man with ratings even close to yours. I can use people with imagination in my kingdom."

"Aren't you worried I might steal power from you?"

He regarded her curiously. "My people are content with me. I am fair. No. I am not afraid of you."

No one had ever said that to her before; she had always been treated rather like a ticking time bomb. "Thank you. But I am injured. I cannot do much. I have no skills that will be useful here."

He nodded understandingly. "You have a wounded leg and an old injury to your shoulder. But that doesn't mean you're useless. What kind of person are you? Do you like to work inside your mind or outside with your body?"

"I live in my mind."

The King looked at the Queen. She smiled down the table at the girl. "Then I would like to offer you a position as a servant in our household. We don't have many these days. Most of them were needed in other places, and we share the ones that are left with their businesses in the town. But you have no other responsibilities, and it will let you get used to this world while you decide what you want to do."

"What would I have to do?"

"Because you are injured, you will assist the other servants. Do you have any special talents? Tasks you enjoy doing?"

The girl thought. "I like to organize."

The King looked alert. "What kind of organizing? Can other people follow it?"

The girl smiled. "I was assigned to work in a library filing documents when I was not filling in as a Monitor. They said I would move up a grade for my skill."

Both the King and Queen were looking thoughtful now. "The palace library is in a hideous state," he said. "The chronicler has been ill for months."

As they were talking, the girl had noticed that there was someone else in the room. He had been in the back, fussing around with some papers, and she could not see him clearly. Now the King beckoned to him and he came forward, handing him another stack of papers. He was a tall young man, about her own age. His eyes were what had caught her attention. They were big and clear and the most beautiful shade of blue she had ever seen, and they were accented by the shape of his face, which was pointed, wide across the temples and narrow at the chin. They contrasted strongly with his hair, which was as dark as an unlit room.

The King pushed the papers towards her. "Look these over. You'll have to sign them." It was a confirmation of citizenship. She hesitated. He noticed.

"Is there something wrong?"

"How many names do I need?"

"One will do. Last names aren't a requirement here. Most people know each other by sight."

She nodded decisively. "I have a name, then," she said. "Will it do?"

"What is it?"

"Cottia."

He looked at the Queen, who smiled, and then at the boy - who was still standing behind his chair - who shrugged.

"It's pretty," the boy said.

"It's a good name," said the King, and she signed the papers.

0000

"She's an interesting person," said the King as the guards closed the doors behind Cottia.

"I like her," said Guinevere. "She thinks."

"Apparently, so much so that she was considered one of the top ten dangers to the state," said Arthur. He looked perplexed. "And yet she seems so meek."

"What?" said the boy.

"Come on, Merlin. She barely made eye contact the entire time."

Merlin shook his head. "I think she'd fight quickly enough for something she valued. She looks stubborn."

"She has to have some substance to her to be able to escape," said Guinevere.

"She doesn't trust you."

"Of course she doesn't," Arthur scoffed. "You know the world she has come from; do you think anyone with any authority was ever trustworthy? We will have to prove to her that we are different. I have an idea for her. Ask Alice to come talk to me as soon as she can, will you? Don't let the girl see you."

Merlin hurried out.

0000

It was arranged that she would stay with Alice for a while. Apparently, it would save space and keep her close to her new job. Cottia was fine with that. She even had a tiny room of her own in Alice's chambers. It was barely large enough for a bed and a wardrobe, but it was her own space. That was something she had not had since leaving home at five years old.

Alice kept her busy with small tasks related to the running of the infirmary for a few days - cutting up bandages, cleaning bottles, and sorting jars of strange-looking powders. Then she moved on to work in the palace library, and helped Alice in the evenings.

The man who looked after it, Geoffrey of Monmouth, was very old. He had white hair and the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. But he was a nice, absent-minded person, and seemed to like having her about the place. The library itself was a disaster. The books were covered in dust and cobwebs and some of the shelves had rotted, spilling their contents in untidy heaps.

They slowly began to set the library in order again. Because of Geoffrey's age and Cottia's injuries, neither of them was very strong or fast, but by working together they soon began to see respectable results. Gleaming wood began to show on some neat shelves, and the old leather of the bindings glowed where they had cleaned the books.

Cottia was happy enough with the work she was doing - and being paid fairly generously for, too, considering Alice would not hear of having her pay for her room and board. But she was lonely. All the girls near her age, indeed, most of the women servants, worked down in the kitchen. The castle staff upstairs was limited to a few men and their wives who came in every few days to clean the public areas. The rest of the castle was looked after by the servants of the occupants.

It was odd, she thought, that they'd go to the trouble of building a big beautiful castle and then use it like a combination of apartment block and government office. Quite a few of the knights lived on various floors of the castle (mostly on the ground and first floor), and they had only one or at the most two personal servants, who were silent men focused jealously on their work. The only time they seemed to relax was when they were in one of the taverns scattered around the town.

The women in the kitchen and the few nurses in the infirmary were polite and nice, but distant. Apparently, they were quite status-conscious, and no one knew where she fit in. Alice had tried to explain it to her - how there had once been a much bigger staff that worked around the palace and how she would have been one of them, but she didn't quite comprehend it. It all seemed silly to her. It was like a ship, right? Everyone had to do their job, and it didn't matter what it was, because without all the little bits, the ship wouldn't float. When she said this to Alice, she had gotten a smile and a pat on the back and told that she was right, only it made sense and so most people would never think of it.

So, Cottia was the only young woman servant in the upper part of the castle. She stood out from the servants of the knights, and got stared at. It was a relief when it was market day and she could accompany Alice into the noisy bustling crowd. There were plenty of girls there, and she was just another dress in the crowd.

It had been weird at first to wear a dress, but her years in the primary school had helped. They had insisted on skirts for females, and a dress was basically just a skirt with sleeves when you got down to the basics. The stays had irritated her at first, but Alice had been kind and helped her adjust them and now she actually found them more comfortable than the stiff camisole with the heavy elastic and wires they had made her wear at the special school. She hadn't even needed it - she was so thin that she could pass as a boy with long hair if she slouched a bit and remembered to look tough and sullen.

So much for the costume, she thought as she followed Alice through the crowd, every nerve screaming. She hated crowds. They were far too loud.

"Nessa!"

She turned. "Ace!"

It was indeed her friend from middle school - the only real friend she had ever had. There she was in a doorway, wearing a dress similar to Cottia's own, staring at her in delight. She came running out into the street.

"So you made it out too!" said Ace.

"Yes," said Cottia.

"Let's duck into the alley for a few seconds. Oh, hello, Alice."

Cottia looked doubtfully at Alice, but she smiled and made a shooing motion and so she let her old friend tug her into the alley. Ace had grown. She was still short, but now she was not exactly stocky, but she looked strong. She'd let her light brown hair grow out and it was braided up around her head.

"Ace," she said again, wonderingly. They had both gotten their nicknames through the mysterious channels of the girls' school dormitory.

"You can't have been here long, or I'd have heard. You've turned out beautiful! Are you working for Alice? You should be good at that. By the way, I've changed my name. I'm Sophie now."

"I dropped Naira. Now I'm Cottia."

Sophie smiled. "That's a lovely name. I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"It's from a book. Do you live here?"

Sophie patted the wall they were standing by. "Yes. My uncle the Doctor runs the tavern. He got me and Jenny out. We live with him and Rose now. Did your parents finally come for you?"

Cottia shook her head, swallowing the ache in her throat at the mention of them. "But I'm going to go back and get them. Who's Jenny?"

"My sister. She was a grade ahead of us. You probably knew her as Killer. I'm so sorry about your parents! Do you need a place to stay?"

"No, I'm staying with Alice."

Sophie wrinkled her forehead. "Really? Where do you work? I thought you couldn't do nursing. But you'd be a great dispenser."

"I - I work in the palace. In the library, right now, although I'm supposed to be a general kind of helper. But I can't do much. I got shot escaping and then I'd broken my arm and torn the muscles in a fight when they split us up and sent us to different special schools and you weren't there to protect me anymore." She smiled sadly.

Sophie stared. "Good grief. Which one did you go to?"

"City Middle West."

"Was it as rough as the rumors said?"

Cottia nodded shortly. "I survived. And now I'm free. Except for my damned portal."

"Oh, but you can get that taken out," said Sophie. She saw the brightening hope in her friend's eyes and went on. "There's a man up at the castle - well, really he looks like a kid, but he's clever - and he knows how to disconnect them. He did it for all of us, me and Jenny and my uncle and aunt. It didn't even hurt that much. His name is Merlin. He's the apothecary."

"I'll look for him," Cottia said eagerly. "Thank you!" She saw Alice waving at her from the other side of the square. "I'd better go. Can I come back and see you?"

"Yes, do! Evenings are busy around suppertime, but by the ninth bell, I usually don't have much to do."

0000

Cottia was happier after that meeting than she had been for years. Sophie did not completely understand her and how she could not hold her mind back from turning everything into a story, happily mixing reality and fiction and stitching together pieces and people from many different stories into one long saga. Sophie looked the world squarely in the face and shouted back. That was how she coped with it. Cottia turned into herself and hid among her fictions like a snail diving into its shell. But Sophie had always liked hearing her stories and eagerly participated in them. And she did not fear Cottia's imagination. She was the only person never to do so. She understands me enough to talk to me, Cottia thought. I just wish there was someone who will never think I'm strange.


	3. Chapter 3

Geoffrey liked to talk while they were working. He rambled on gently about people and places Cottia had never heard of. She didn't mind. He didn't need much response, and she was genuinely interested in his stories. History had been her favorite subject - what little the schools taught. And, of course, the wonderful history books had led her to the glorious stories set in the past, and that was what had set her mind free.

Most of his stories were triggered by the books they were handling at the time, and so they were mostly about knights and fallen kings and old battles. But there were a few books that were different, bound in thicker leather with iron clasps. Some of them had burn marks and water damage. The stories he told then were stranger, about odd beasts and terrifying plagues and executions and a secretive band of people known as druids. He kept on mentioning one of them in particular: Emrys, apparently the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth, and the protector and savior of Camelot. Cottia liked those stories the best, but she quickly learned not to show any interest, because when she asked questions, the old man looked nervous and shut up like a clam. There was definitely something odd about the druids.

Today she was working alone, though. Geoffrey had hurt his back the day before, and although he had tried to shrug it off, when they had begun tidying up a new bookcase he had clearly been in pain. She had persuaded him to go sit quietly for a while, and he had taken a few of the dirtier books and wandered off to sit in the surprisingly comfortable chairs by the long windows on the other side of the library. Cottia was left alone to wipe down the shelves and dust the books.

It was beautifully silent in the library. The rustle of the pages and the soft slap of her cloth on the leather bindings were the only sounds.

A board squeaked behind her. Cottia jumped up, knocking over a stack of books nearly as high as herself, her instinct to run kicking in before she could stop it. Someone caught them and held them before they could topple over and bend their pages.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." It was the boy she had seen with the King, the one with the beautiful eyes.

"You're awfully quiet," she said, forcing her hands to stay steady. He was not going to hurt her. There was no reason for him to hurt her.

He finished balancing the books again and looked around. "Uh, I was actually here to see Geoffrey." The boy pulled a little bottle of liquid out of his brown leather jacket. "He said his back was hurting."

Up close he looked a little older. She had thought him to be around her own age, but now she saw that he was probably in his mid-twenties. Around the same age as the Queen. She pulled herself together. "He's on the other side cleaning some books. I managed to get him to sit for a while."

The boy smiled. "Good for you. You've done a nice job here. I think this is the cleanest I've ever seen it."

"There's a lot more to do. Why are you bringing him his medicine? I thought you were the King's secretary or something."

"Yeah, I'm his servant. But even Arthur doesn't need to have me hanging around him twenty-four hours a day, so I'm also the apothecary. I could be a doctor, but I don't have the time for that. So I help Alice by making up most of her medicines and gathering the ingredients for everything else. My name's Merlin, by the way."

Cottia looked at him with renewed interest. "Do you know how to deactivate portals?" she blurted out. "Oh, I'm Cottia."

He looked surprised, and then smiled again. "I remember you. And yes, I could take your portal out. If you want it taken out."

"Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "Some people don't. They hack it and reprogram it to conceal their inner thoughts and then go back to the Other Side to help more people escape. They say it helps them."

"I'm never going back," said Cottia firmly, and for a second her face was set and grim. Then it softened a little. "Except to help my parents escape."

Merlin's eyes were full of compassion. "Then I will remove your portal for you. When would you like to have it done?"

"As soon as possible. Could - could you do it today? How long does it take?"

"I could take it out today," he said, looking surprised. "It only takes about twenty minutes for me to switch it off and remove it. It will hurt a bit, and you'll have a cut that will take a week or two to heal. You won't be much good for anything else today, too."

She bit her lip. "I don't care how much it hurts. I want it off me."

"Then I'll go give this to Geoffrey and persuade him to give you the rest of the day off, and you go tell Alice. You might be back late - it depends on how you react to the sedative and how you feel when it's gone. Some people get a bit disoriented."

She shrugged. "I don't care," she repeated stubbornly.

"Then I'll meet you at my chambers. In the main residential block, west tower, second floor. That's the second floor above the highest level of the main block," he added helpfully. "It isn't technically a tower until it rises above that level. I'm the second door down the corridor. There's a sign." He hurried away between the dusty bookshelves.

Cottia put her cleaning things away in haste and limped as quickly as she could along the maze of galleries to tell Alice.

0000

Alice was surprised, but she approved of Cottia's decision. Cottia navigated her way uncertainly through the castle to the entrance to the west tower and began to pull herself up the spiral stairs. Her leg was beginning to hurt from all the walking.

She heard someone running below her, and Merlin came up the stairs behind her two at a time. He stopped beside her.

"Sorry, I got held up arguing, but I managed to get him to let the library be for a few days." He noticed that she was holding herself up by the railing. "Are you hurt?"

Cottia smiled faintly. "I got shot escaping. It's healing nicely, but I've still got a limp and stairs aren't the best."

Merlin looked concerned. "Do you want some help?"

Cottia bit back a snap of refusal. Why couldn't she accept his help? He was practically a doctor, and her leg really was starting to hurt. She nodded instead. He put his arm around her waist and half carried her up the rest of the stairs. When they reached the second floor, he led her a few steps out onto the landing and then gently released her.

"Thanks," she said. He nodded.

His chambers were warm and sunny and smelled of wood smoke and herbs and old books. The room that the door opened into was a long rectangle, with the wall at the far end curved like the outside of the tower. There were three tall windows in it, with glass panes set into wooden frames. There were two doors on either side of the room - one pair facing each other close to the corridor entrance end of the room, and another facing pair near the windows. There were two columns in the middle of the room.

All the available wall space was covered in shelves, and the shelves were crammed with books and bottles and little boxes, but mostly with books. There was even a loft over the half of the room nearer the windows, and she could see that it was full of bookshelves. It could apparently only be reached by a ladder propped rather casually against the wall. The room was untidy and messy, but it was comfortable, and in some curious way, exactly what she had always been longing for in a home.

There was a little woodstove set beside the nearest column, and the chimney pipe ran up it and across the ceiling (that was really the floor of the loft) to exit through a neat little hole in the glass of the window. In front of the stove was a big table covered in interesting glass equipment that looked vaguely like a science kit. There was a clear space at one end, free of bottles and tubes but occupied with an empty plate and an open book. It looked interesting; it was thick and the cover was stained. There was a chair there, pushed back invitingly.

Merlin looked slightly embarrassed. "Sorry about the mess," he muttered, grabbing the plate and setting it on the counter next to a big, deep sink. The kitchen area apparently consisted of the sink, a long counter that bent around the right corner of the room nearest the corridor, and a big double-doored cupboard. One door was half open, and Cottia could see bins and sacks stuffed inside.

"I prefer to do my own cooking," he explained, noticing her glance as he picked up the book and put it carefully on a shelf. "I don't like going down to the kitchen."

"Neither do I," she agreed. "But Alice doesn't have time to cook, and I don't know how. Not on these kind of stoves, anyway."

He gestured for her to sit in the chair by the table. "I'll just get my stuff," he said, and bolted into the room on the left side nearest the windows. Cottia leaned back and looked around with now undisguised interest. This room felt much more lived in than the rest of the castle. It was a lot warmer, too, which was lovely.

Most of the room was taken up with Merlin's apothecary things, but in the right corner near the window on that side was a big chair with comfortable worn cushions, a low table, and a battered low couch big enough to seat at least three people. It looked like something from her world about a hundred years before she was born. On the table were stacks of books and a big lantern with four candles in it. She could only see all this by leaning back, because the little sitting area was divided off from the rest of the room by a carved wooden screen about six feet high. It started at the wall right next to the door on that side and cut off nearly half the area. She liked it. It was comfortable.

Merlin came out again, carrying a little bag full of things. He laid them out on the table. Cottia noticed a very small knife with a very sharp blade.

"It can't be helped," he said apologetically. "I can't switch it off without touching it, and I can't touch it without making an incision."

"I know. As long as I am free of it, I'll do anything."

He stopped what he was doing and raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Yes. Within reason," she added hurriedly. He laughed.

"Good. Always think before saying things like that." He handed her a cup. "Here. It'll make your muscles relax. It'll put you to sleep with any luck. I'll give you a local anesthetic too, but this works best."

She drank the water and watched curiously as he tested a syringe. "That doesn't fit here."

"I know. I learned this from your world. It's a great improvement." He had his things all set out now, and turned to her. "Could you twist around the other way? Pretend the chair is a horse." He helped her settle down astride the chair with her head resting comfortably on the table. She felt him brush aside her hair, and a tiny pain as the needle slid in, but soon the base of her neck was completely numb. She didn't care. It was warm and she was getting sleepy.

She could feel him touching the unnumbed skin on her neck and shoulders occasionally, and he sometimes shifted position, but nothing hurt. At one point, there was the sensation of a click and something, some noise or vibration nearly beyond the range of her senses, ceased. It felt wonderful. Restful.

"That's it," said Merlin's voice, coming from a long way away. She felt him lift her into his arms. "Sleep now. You'll be fine."

0000

Merlin set the girl down on his couch and made sure the bandage at the base of her neck had not slipped. Then he drew a blanket over her. He stood looking down at her for a few minutes.

When he had first seen her talking to Arthur, he had thought, stubborn. She knows what she wants and she won't stop until she gets it, and the gods help those in her path. Now, although he still felt he was right, he was a little more curious about her. She clearly loathed her portal, and was running from her past. She was a very orderly person, judging from her work in the library, but she also had a temper.

Physically, she was pretty enough, though not a beauty. She had a heart-shaped face and wide grey eyes, with fair hair that was made of strands of both blond and red so that it shifted hue from pale yellow to rich amber depending on the light. It was just long enough to brush her shoulders, and hung now in thick locks, showing a tendency to corkscrew into wild fuzzy curls. Her skin was pale, and she had the suspicion of freckles starting on her nose and on her cheeks beneath her eyes. She was short and rather boyish in figure, but he suspected that she was not quite done growing.

Merlin hoped Arthur knew what he was doing, letting this little firebrand run tame in his kingdom. For all her meek demeanor, she had character, and he had seen the hint of a strong and stubborn will. He was even more certain of that now that he had caught a glimpse of the scars on her back.

He would have to keep an eye on her.


	4. Chapter 4

Cottia drifted slowly up from her bubble of sleep. She sighed and snuggled down into the nest of blankets. She felt better than she ever had, more concentrated and able to control her thoughts. She opened one eye slightly. Where was she? It was warm and there was a flickering light all around her. She turned her head.

"Good. You're awake," said a voice. It was a nice voice. Someone bent over her. She smiled as a fuzzy face came into focus. It was Merlin. "How are you feeling?"

He helped her untangle herself from the big grey blanket and sit up. "You woke up a few hours ago and made yourself a little nest and then went back to sleep. Does your head feel all right?"

"It feels awesome. I can think now." She blinked in the light. The lantern she had noticed earlier on the low table was alight now. "That's awfully bright."

"The portal has been depressing the sensory sections of your brain. Everything will be more intense until you adjust." He carefully opened the lantern and pinched out two of the candles. "Is that better?"

She stared at him, still half asleep. "You didn't have to do that. Isn't it too dark for you now?"

Interesting, he thought. She can see the other person's point of view. I did not expect that. "That's all right. I don't want to overload your brain. Are you hungry?"

She nodded and then yawned and stretched. She looked like a little cat, all arching muscles and spiky teeth. Then she shivered and huddled back into the blanket. "What time is it?" she said absently.

"Nearly the seventh bell. It's dark outside. I have dinner almost ready; why don't you stay and eat and then I will take you back to Alice's quarters."

Cottia smiled at him. "That sounds good."

He left her sitting upright on the couch and went back to set the table. He pulled the extra chair around from the lab end of the table and set out two plates and cups. Cottia limped over to the table. He noticed that her limp was considerably worse than it had been earlier. She sat down quickly, leaning heavily on the table.

"Is your wound acting up?"

Cottia shrugged. "I walked a lot today. It's sore. I suppose I need to use it to keep it from stiffening up."

As they ate, he noticed her eyes flicking over the equipment on the rest of the table and around the crowded shelves. "Is my clutter driving you mad?" he asked, grinning.

A faint tinge of a blush crept into her cheeks. "I was wondering how you manage to find anything when you want it," she said bluntly. It took him aback; he had expected her to deny it.

"It's starting to get out of control," he admitted. "I can't seem to keep it organized, though."

There was a wistful gleam in her big eyes as she gazed at the shelves again. He watched her for a few minutes, and then he couldn't resist it any longer. "You want to organize them, don't you?"

She nodded. "You'd have to explain what all those jars of things are for me to work out a system."

He had been turning over an idea in his mind for several minutes. "Do you like working for Alice? What does she have you do?"

"Mostly hand her things. And put labels on the medicine bottles. And tear up fabric for bandages. Why?"

"Would you be interested in learning how to put the medicines together?"

She looked thoughtful and bit her bottom lip. "What is it like? Chemistry?"

"Pretty much. You have to be very accurate about weights, and have a good memory." He watched her.

"I could do that," she said, returning his gaze squarely for the first time during their conversation. "Why?"

"What are you going to do once the library is clean? Geoffrey can run it on his own once it is back in order."

She shrugged and her gaze dropped. She suddenly looked a little lost.

"If you are willing to stick with it, I could take you on as my apprentice."

Her head came up, a speculative look crossing her face. "What exactly would I have to do?"

"Help me make medicines, deliver them, and gather the ingredients for them. Lots of horseback riding and wandering around in the forest in the wet and the cold."

"All right," she said after a long pause. "I think I would like that. I don't know how to ride, though."

"I'll teach you. Or one of the knights will teach you. You'll absolutely have to learn anyway if you want to live here."

"I would like that," she said again. "Where would I live?"

"Uh, well, that's the part you might not like. You'd have to live here, I think. It's usual for apprentices to live in their master's chambers." He pointed to the door by the screen. "I have a spare room. It's probably bigger than the one you've got now."

A little half-smile tugged up one corner of her mouth, making her eyes narrow and twinkle. "I'm very grateful that Alice made space for me, but I think your cupboard is bigger."

He laughed, but he looked at her curiously. "But it wouldn't bother you to live here with me? I'd give you your privacy," he added.

"No," she said simply. "I like it here." She looked around. "It's safe, like a little shell."

"And could you work with me?"

The half-smile reappeared. "Rooms are like their residents. I think it will work. Just don't expect me to be chatty. My words get stuck in my head."

Merlin smiled back. He couldn't help it. She looked like a little cat. "I won't expect you to be perfect. Just do your best."

She nodded. "I have to finish the library, though."

"Of course," he said quickly. "And you don't have to move in here until you're ready."

0000

When Merlin took Cottia back to Alice's chambers, she went straight to bed. He stayed to talk to Alice.

"I want to take Cottia on as my apprentice," he said. "I think she'd be good at it, and it will solve some of the - logistical problems."

Alice nodded slowly. "Yes, I think that is a good idea. She seems like a good person, though. She's stubborn, but quite teachable if taught the right way."

"Have you seen the scars on her back? I noticed them while I was taking her portal out."

"Yes, I've seen them. Poor girl."

"But she escaped even after that. She has a strong spirit."

"Under the caution? Definitely. You'll need to get her confidence. If she learns to trust you, that will make it easier for her to trust Arthur."

"But I don't want her to know that I'm watching her because of her record."

"Of course not!" Alice said emphatically. "She deserves a chance, even if we keep her under close observation." She looked at him curiously. "Will you take her in or do you want her to stay with me?"

"I told her she would have to move into my chambers." He hesitated. "I don't want to be mean, but you're just too busy to keep an eye on her. To talk to her, and to spend slack time with her."

Alice nodded seriously. "I know. I don't have the energy to keep both an infirmary and a foster daughter. But I'll still keep up with her."

"Good," said Merlin. He still looked a little puzzled. "She wasn't embarrassed at all about living with me. I mean, apprentices usually live with their masters, but they're usually not -"

"She's very naïve about some things," said Alice. She looked sharply at Merlin. "That could be a possible complication. You'll have to watch out for that. Don't let her even start idolizing you."

"She wouldn't," Merlin said, embarrassed. Alice regarded him with a smile.

"You underestimate yourself. Apart from being a very clever young man, you are also very handsome. So set your boundaries with her and keep them. You don't have to be chilly, but don't encourage her."

"I won't let her - I'll make sure she doesn't - I have no intention of -"

"I'm not saying you do. But you've never been a seventeen-year-old girl, and I have." Alice smiled at him. "Don't be self-conscious about it. Just treat her like a human and not like a woman."

Merlin frowned for a few seconds, and then he smiled. "I understand."

0000

Alice didn't bring up the subject of Cottia's prospective apprenticeship the next morning, but it was almost the first thing the girl mentioned. "How soon do you think he wants me to move in?" she asked while they were eating breakfast. Alice considered, her head on one side.

"Well, he does need someone to help him. His days are pretty full with both looking after the King and being the only apothecary for miles around. He's the only person who knows where some of the rarer herbs are. So I think that the sooner you start helping him, the better. But you can't abandon your work in the library."

Cottia looked shocked. "I'll finish that, of course. But when should I move?"

"Why don't you run over and see him when you've finished in the library for today? He's usually in in the afternoons. You can ask him when he wants you." Alice got up and began to pack her bag for the day. "If you ever need space when you've moved out, you can always come spend a night here."

Cottia looked genuinely puzzled. "I like him. He's peaceful."

Alice sighed. "Sometimes you just need a change, even from being with your best friend. So if you need someone else to talk to or somewhere else to go, I will be here."

"How did he learn to be a doctor if he was the King's servant?" Cottia asked, her mind wandering.

"He came to Camelot as a boy of about your age, and he lived with a friend of his mother's, who was a doctor. He learned quite a lot from Gaius before the kingdom fell asleep."

"What happened to him? His teacher, I mean."

"I don't know," said Alice sadly. "I came back from living in a little village to take his place by the request of the King. When everyone woke up, Gaius was gone. I used to know him, too."

"Maybe he woke up early and went somewhere else," Cottia suggested. She got up and limped to the door. "I don't think Geoffrey will do much today. If he doesn't have anything for me to do, do you want me to come back?"

"Go see if Merlin has something for you to do. You may as well start early."

0000

When Cottia arrived at the big doors into the library, they were locked. Too late, she remembered what Merlin had said about persuading Geoffrey to take a few days off. She tugged on the doors one last time and turned away, frowning. Oh well. Alice had said to get off to a good start with her apprenticeship. She wandered through the castle to the west tower.

The stairs were steep and they made her leg hurt. She had to take them very slowly, one step at a time. But she made it to the second floor and knocked on Merlin's door. He opened it and looked surprised to see her.

"The library is closed," she said. "So I thought that if you need me . . ."

He beckoned her in. The table was in a worse mess than yesterday, she noticed. "Sure, you can help me. So you definitely want to work for me?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yes. I do."

As she came further into the room, she realized that she could hear music playing - not the kind of music she had heard on the streets in the town. This was different. Merlin saw her looking curiously around.

"That's a nice invention I've taken from the history of your world. It hasn't really caught on with anyone else, though." He pointed to a little black metal and glass rectangle. It was lying on a shelf and attached to some more black boxes with mesh fronts by a long wire. Cottia stared.

"I saw a picture of that once in the history book. That's what people had to carry around before they invented portals, isn't it?"

"It's called an iPod. Technically, that's the brand name, but it worked its way into the language as a colloquial term for any portable music player. I hope you don't mind it. I usually have something playing."

She shook her head. "It's such different music from the kind everyone listens to there now. Now it's all carefully worked out to create moods. This is - this is landscapes. Stories told by notes along with words."

"I'm glad you like it."

They spent the morning making up lots of little bottles of tinctures and ointments. Cottia had never dreamed there were so many different kinds of plants.

For the sake of making conversation, Merlin asked her as they worked, "What did you think of the storm last night?"

She looked blank. "I didn't notice it. I hate storms, so I'm glad."

"You were probably dead asleep. How are you feeling today? I didn't expect you to be about."

"Fine. Things are still awfully bright and loud, but I'm getting used to it."

"Good," he said, handing her a bowl full of a bubbling liquid. "You've recovered the fastest of anyone I've ever removed a portal from."

He definitely needs someone to clean up this mess, she thought, watching him search for a plate he had put down about five minutes before.

"Why do you keep your equipment all mixed up on the shelves with the ingredients?" she asked.

He frowned. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. It just has to be close."

"You could keep two or three shelves just for tools and use the rest of them for everything else," she said, regarding the two closest bays of shelves with a critical eye. "And you really should keep the books you keep looking up the recipes in in a bookshelf, not just flung into the regular shelves. You're getting them dirty."

"Then why don't you get started sorting everything out while I go and deliver these? Just be careful and don't break anything." He had noted her steady hands with approval.

When he came back, she had swept the two rows of shelves she had been looking at bare and refilled them. All his tools were now on three of the shelves, and the books were lined up neatly on another. She had not organized the ingredients, because, as she explained, she could not sort them until she knew what they were all for.

She'll do, he thought, and then saw her hopeful expression and altered the thought to, she'll be good at this.

He said much the same to Arthur a few days later when the King asked him what he thought of her.

"She's careful with things, and doesn't get excited. She takes orders pretty well, and is willing to learn."

Arthur looked interested. "According to all the information we have on her from the Other Side, she's an anarchist in the making."

"I don't see that," Merlin said flatly. "She's very anxious to please. She flinches at every sudden movement. Yeah, she has opinions, but nothing radical, and she'll listen to logic."

Arthur tapped his pen thoughtfully on the desk in front of him. "Where is she living?"

"With Alice."

"Get her to move in with you. I want her watched more closely than that. Does she seem to mind the idea?"

"No, she fairly jumped at it," Merlin said emphatically. "Didn't hesitate for a second."

Arthur nodded. "Well, I don't think she's turning out to be as dangerous as her reputation, but it never hurts to take precautions. Thanks, Merlin, that's all."

Merlin began to leave, but he turned in the doorway to say, "I think that if she can learn to trust you, she will be a valuable asset to you."

"Perhaps, Merlin. We'll see."

0000

Geoffrey was well enough for the work in the library to resume on the following day, and Cottia could only spend an hour or so in the evening with Merlin. He used it to teach her the names and uses of the most common healing herbs.

She finished looking over the page of illustrations in the big book of botany and gazed up at him hopefully. "Did I get it right?" she asked timidly.

"Yes," he said reassuringly. "You're doing really well. Don't try to cram it all in. Eventually it will be instinctive." He shut the book. "Do you want to look at the spare room? You'll be done with the library in a week or so, and you really should move over here soon."

Cottia nodded eagerly and followed him over to the door on the right side of the room nearest the windows. He unlocked it with a small key.

The room was medium-sized, with the outer wall curved like the one in the main room. There were two tall narrow windows in this room, with wooden shutters in addition to the glass panes. There was a bed and a chest and a table in it, and nothing else.

"It's lots bigger than my room now," she said, drifting over to the window and looking out. There was a view of the town and the moat below, and beyond that, the fields and the forest and the setting sun. "If you don't mind having me, I do like it here."

"No, I don't mind having you. And you needn't be grateful, either. I need an assistant and you need a job. So you don't have to feel like you owe me anything." Where had that come from, he wondered. But it was true. He didn't mind her company, and he didn't want her to feel like she had to act a part for him.

She had turned away from the window and was looking up at him with surprise. "I didn't think anyone else understood that," she said. "How tiring gratitude is after a while."

He handed her the key to the room, and smiled at her. "When you want to, bring your things. It doesn't matter to me how soon it is."

She brought them the very next day.


	5. Chapter 5

Cottia fit into Merlin's life like she had always been there. Within a week of her moving in, he could not imagine his home without her curled up on the end of the couch nearest the windows, engrossed in a book she had taken from the piles lying around. She had a definite preference for fiction, although she was equally interested in nonfiction if he explained it to her. Making it come alive, she called it. He was amused by her ability to turn anything and everything into a story.

The piles of books lying around had interested her from the start, and Merlin often found Cottia sitting on the floor trying to read three books at once. She was also fascinated by his music collection. He could tell which songs were her favorites, because when they played, she would stop whatever she was doing and sit motionless, not even blinking, until they finished.

She was done in the library two weeks later, and Geoffrey was once more left to sit in peace in his neat, clean, orderly domain. It had only taken them two months to make it presentable again.

"Cottia's a good girl," he confided to Merlin and to Arthur. "She's intelligent but she can follow orders. She has a good heart."

Arthur was a little reassured by this. Geoffrey had seen so many people come and go in trusted positions in the kingdom that by now, he was a very sound judge of character.

"Maybe you're right, Merlin," he said as they walked away. "Maybe I am letting my first impressions of her cloud my judgement. You know, Guinevere likes her too, and no one is shrewder than her."

Merlin was looking a little uneasy. "Gwen's good with people, and so are you. I don't think there's any active harm in Cottia, but I think that there is - potential."

Arthur stopped. "What is it? Come on. Tell me."

"Did she remind you of someone with that first impression? Is that why you want her watched but are so eager to give her a chance?"

"Morgana," Arthur muttered, fidgeting. "She's just like Morgana as a child - nervous and idealistic and strong-willed." He stopped, seeing that Merlin was nodding.

"I see it too, and I don't want her to become like Morgana. I don't want her to become so bitter."

That conversation was echoing in his head as he watched Cottia now, her golden hair glowing in the candlelight and her face in sharp profile against the dark windows. He was sitting on the other end of the couch, in his usual spot, and pretending to read while he watched her. At last he could not hold back his question any longer.

"Cottia," he said. She started and looked up. Her eyes were still full of the story she had been reading.

"Yes?" She was always tense, coiled up ready to flee.

"I was just wondering how you came to pick your name," he said. "I've never heard it before."

Her half-smile flickered across her face. That seemed to be her default expression for almost every emotion, and it was only by her eyes that they could be differentiated. "It was in a story I read. I was ten. I found the book all torn apart in a heap of old rubbish and stapled it back together."

He nodded encouragingly, and she went on, gradually losing her timidity. "It was written hundreds of years ago, and it was about a man who was a soldier in the Roman Empire and stationed in Brittania. I don't understand that, because everyone knows that Britain is a mythical land. But it was only a story. And he fought to defend his fort and was wounded, so he had to stop being a soldier and go live with his uncle because his parents were dead and he had no money. And he met a slave called Esca and became his best friend, and he had a pet wolf, a real one, not a gene-mix dog, and there was a girl in it too, and her name was Cottia. She was forced to live with her uncle and aunt under Roman rule because her mother did not want her, but inside her she was still of her tribe." And the story poured out of her, and Merlin watched the eager little face in the candlelight as it lost its fear and shyness and wandered in a world where there were no problems that were insurmountable.

"And so he found his father's legion's Eagle and then buried it with honor. And Cottia married him because he understood her and how she wanted freedom and he was not afraid of her even though she was different." She stopped and blinked hard. "And she was happy," Cottia finished in a small voice.

"What was the book called?" Merlin asked gently.

"The Eagle of the Ninth." There was a catch in the girl's voice. "I loved that book. I wanted to live in it. But they caught me with it and they -" She stopped. "They burned it," she whispered. "I don't understand how anyone could do that. And they beat me for reading it." A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily.

"Is that how you got your scars?"

Cottia seemed to shrink into herself. "Those came later," she muttered. "At the special school. I found a book there called Watership Down, all about rabbits who leave their warren when it is destroyed and found a new one and help other rabbits escape their prison warren. They needed permission to go between Inside and Outside, too."

"The people there did that to you just for reading a story?"

She shrugged. "They don't allow stories anywhere there. They corrupt the mind and distract from work."

"That's not true," Merlin said hotly. "Without stories, there is no hope."

Cottia gave him one of her rare direct glances, her eyes still glistening with tears. "They were the only things that got me to escape. I pretended I was Fiver and ran and ran until I fell through into this world."

"I know how that feels," Merlin said. "You couldn't cope with being you anymore, so you became someone else. I've done that."

She smiled at him, a full smile. "Really? That is good." Her fingers were clinging to the pages of her book. He smiled back. She really is beautiful when she isn't afraid, he thought.

"Would you like to find those books again?" he asked. Her whole face lit up.

"Could you?" she breathed.

"I don't see why not. I will start looking for them tomorrow."

0000

Merlin wasn't there when she got up the next morning. That wasn't anything unusual. The removal of her portal had disrupted the chemistry in her brain. Really, it had been continually altering it from the moment it had been put in, and now that it was out, she was returning to normal. But the change meant that sometimes she could not sleep until it was dawn. They had worked out a routine; if Cottia was awake when Merlin got up, she came out and ate breakfast with him and then did small jobs during the morning while she waited for him to return from looking after the King. If she was asleep, he did not wake her.

She wandered over to the stove and inspected what he had left her. It had come as a surprise to her that he was actually a very good cook. Most of the adult men she had known did not stoop to doing chores, and the boys her age had been boring, selfish, and lifeless to her. Merlin was different. She had actually found him mopping the floor one day when she returned from spending a few hours in the town with Sophie.

Now she sat alone at the big wooden table and wondered what he actually did for the King. Why did it only take a few hours every morning? And why did he call him by his first name? She had even seen them sitting on the steps into the castle keep together, talking like brothers. It was weird. The headmasters and the politicians had had servants, and they were just like animals to their employers.

Cottia washed the dishes and then settled down in her spot on the couch. She spent a few minutes looking out the window before diving into her book. It was still such a luxury to be able to see outside and even open the windows without permission, without worrying about pollution.

The book was a big, heavy red one, handwritten. Merlin had given it to her night before, and she had kept it to start today. "It's a copy I made of the Red Book of Westmarch," he had said. "It's a true story from another world, told to a man from yours who translated it and published it. His descendants escaped into this world and brought a few copies with them. Don't read the end first, however much you want to - it'll really mess you up."

She opened it and looked at the title page. There were two titles. The first was, There And Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale. The second was, The Lord of the Rings. Interesting, she thought, and turned to the first page.

The morning passed very quickly, and Merlin was back before she had even gotten through the Misty Mountains. In fact, Cottia did not hear him come in, and he had to sit down beside her and look at what page she was on to get her attention.

"Sorry," she said nervously, shutting the book.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," she said fervently. "And this world is real?"

"I've met some of the people from there. Not ones mentioned in the books, but ones who were there during some of the events. It was very interesting to talk to them." Merlin stood up. "But it's washing day, and then there's other stuff to do. You'll want to wash that dress."

Cottia laid the book gently on the table and frowned. "I don't have any other clothes. My only other dress is dirty too."

"Yeah, I thought of that." Merlin picked up a bundle of fabric and held it out to her. "Go put these on and see how much they don't fit."

She took the bundle. "How much they don't fit?"

"They're too small for me now, so I tried to alter them to be around your size. They're probably still too big for you, but if you put them on I can take them in even more."

"These were yours? Why were you wearing a dress?"

"I wasn't! Well, once but - anyway, that was for a really good reason. You're going to need some trousers when you learn to ride, so you may as well have them now."

She wanted to ask him to elaborate on the dress, but she decided she didn't know him well enough to tease him yet. "I thought there was some funny way to ride in a skirt."

"Sidesaddle. You'll probably learn that eventually, but it won't be useful for the kind of riding you'll be doing out in the woods. Now go put those on and collect your dirty clothes."

The bundle turned out to be a pair of brown trousers and a dark blue shirt. There was also a leather belt. They were surprisingly comfortable, Cottia decided. The trousers needed another inch or two taken off the bottom, and the shirt was slightly too big in the shoulders, but they were soft and thick and warm and smelled nice. Like cedar, she diagnosed, sniffing the fabric carefully. The belt was too big for her.

Merlin looked surprised when she reappeared with an armful of clothes. "I got your size better than I thought," he remarked. "Put those down here."

"The belt's too big," she said. "It needs about another three holes."

He took it from her and pulled a small knife from somewhere about his person. She looked at him curiously as he began to poke more holes in the stiff leather. He was different.

"What happened to that scarf thing?" she asked, realizing what was different. She'd never seen him without it, and had assumed it was somehow attached to him.

"I do have to wash it occasionally," he said, concentrating on not cutting his fingers.

"What's it for?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, we live in a big drafty castle, and it gets very cold during the winter. And it's useful."

"For what?"

"It saved Arthur's life once."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He held out the belt. It fit her now, but it left a long trailing end. She glared at it.

"Can't I cut this off?"

"Don't do that. You might need a long piece of leather someday. If it bothers you, tie it up in a knot."

He turned his attention to the big sink full of water. As Cottia discovered, doing laundry by hand was actually hard work. Merlin did most of it, leaving her to hang up the wet clothes on racks by the stove, but it still made her shoulder ache.

"You'll need a decent pair of boots, too," he said over his shoulder. "Those little slipper things you have now aren't going to work."

"It sounds like you're planning on us going on an expedition."

"I usually go out with the King's border patrol every month. It takes about four days. Arthur needs me, and I get the chance to find lots of herbs."

Cottia blinked. "Where do you stay?"

"In the woods. You remember riding with Leon and Percival." He turned, saw her expression, and laughed. "Don't worry. There's usually nine or ten knights and men-at-arms, and it's a lot more comfortable when you're not wounded."

"When do I have to start coming with you?" she asked skittishly.

"I'd like you to come on the next patrol. That's set to leave two weeks from today."

"But I don't know how to ride."

"After we're done here, we're going out to the stables and you're going to start learning." He reached out and touched her on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," he said reassuringly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

0000

The stables were dark and smelled like horses and hay. Cottia stayed close behind Merlin. The horses were big, and they made strange noises, and they were staring at her. He stopped in front of a stall in a corner and unlatched it, stepping inside. Cottia hovered around the open door.

The horse inside was smaller than the massive battlehorses they had passed, but it was still big. Merlin patted it on the neck and took it by the halter. "This is Steady. He's mine. Come here."

This was addressed to Cottia. She sidled nervously into the stall, keeping Merlin between herself and the horse. "He's pretty," she said doubtfully. He was a beautiful horse, a light tan with a black-and-tan stripy mane. He was finer-boned than the other horses, she noticed. "Why doesn't he look like the other horses?"

"I'm not a knight. He doesn't need to haul twice my weight in armor around. He needs to be fast and have stamina instead of being strong and slow. He won't hurt you. Steady, this is Cottia. She's never seen a horse before."

Steady's ears twitched at the sound of Merlin's voice and he lowered his head. Merlin grabbed Cottia's hand and made her put it on the horse's forehead. Its skin was silky and warm. She stroked him nervously.

"Good," said Merlin. "He won't hurt you. He knows you're my friend." He led the horse out. Cottia jumped aside as his hooves rattled on the planks.

Outside in the stable yard, Steady didn't seem quite so big, but Cottia was still nervous of him. If he put his foot down on hers, he probably wouldn't even notice. As the thought crossed her mind, he turned and looked at her reproachfully with liquid brown eyes.

'I would notice.'

No, he hadn't actually said that, but she knew that was what he had meant.

"Hold him," said Merlin, showing her where to hold the halter. "I'll go get his saddle."

Cottia hung on to the strap under the horse's chin and gazed up it at helplessly. The horse made a snorting noise and blinked. Its tail flicked. She jumped. The horse just stood there placidly.

Merlin came back with the saddle and put it on Steady's back. Cottia watched. There were a bewildering amount of buckles and straps on it. But Merlin knew exactly what he was doing and it only took a few moments until it was ready.

It was a long way down to the ground from horseback. Cottia hung on to the reins and tensed at every movement as Merlin led Steady slowly forward. He looked up at her.

"Relax. Let yourself move with the horse. It's not like riding in a machine; you have to work with him."

Cottia bit her lip nervously and tried to stop being so afraid. Steady turned his head and looked her right in the eye.

'You won't fall off, silly girl.'

"Watch me," she muttered under her breath.

By the end of half an hour, Cottia had relaxed enough to take the reins and tentatively guide the horse around the yard herself. Merlin still walked beside them, but he wasn't leading it anymore.

Getting off the horse was almost as much of a gymnastics exercise as getting on, and it was a lot scarier because the ground was much further away. And you had to get on and off on a specific side of the horse. Cottia was grateful that Merlin caught her as she half fell out of the saddle. He put her down and grinned.

"You did really well," he said. "We'll do the same thing tomorrow. If you do as well then, we can start going for proper rides."

"My shoulder hurts," Cottia grumbled. Merlin looked bewildered.

"Why?"

She held her ribs with the other hand and scowled at him. "Because the horse is bumpy."

"Do they feel swollen?"

She shook her head begrudgingly. "Not yet," she muttered.

"You're all tense. That won't help it. Go lay down and stretch when we get back home." She followed him into the stable, kicking rocks on the way.

He made her give Steady an apple. The horse had scary big teeth, but Merlin had put his hand under hers and Steady had picked it up gently with soft lips and afterwards had butted his head into her chest. She had nearly fallen over. Merlin had laughed.

"He likes you. He tolerates most people, but he's always been a good judge of character."

"What does that mean?"

"That means he knows that you like him even though you're scared of him, and he knows you'd never hurt any animal."

"I'm not scared of him!"

"Is that why you keep hiding behind me?" he teased.

She glared at him. He could see the anger in her eyes.

"Come on," he said, closing the stall gate and going out into the yard. "We can drop by the cobblers' on our way back."

They arrived back home in half an hour. Cottia had been promised a new pair of boots in a week. She was doubtful.

"He'll have them done," Merlin said confidently. "You're one of the royal servants. He knows better than to let one of us down."

"Why?" Cottia asked listlessly.

"Arthur gets angry if we aren't looked after."

"Why does he let you call him Arthur? What do you do for him?"

"I take care of him. I keep his room clean, make sure he can find his clothes, look after his armor, help him get dressed, and ride with him whenever he goes out on patrol."

"Why?"

Merlin glanced at her, intrigued by the confusion in her voice. "Because it's my job."

"But why do you talk to him like he's part of your family? The servants I've seen would have been put in prison for that. They all hated their jobs. Why is he any different?"

"He's my friend." Merlin was confused now. There was a rising note of bitterness in the girl's words.

"But he's a king! They don't have friends. They use people and toss them away."

They were walking down one of the long galleries several floors above the courtyard now, and no one was in sight. Merlin stopped and fixed Cottia with a hard stare. "He is the best friend I have ever had. He is a brother to me. That's why I serve him - because he loves me. I held him in my arms as he died and the world ended and the last thing he said was 'Thank you'. He's not like any leader you have ever known. Yes, he can be thoughtless and impulsive and a complete ass sometimes, but he is kind and just. You don't know him, Cottia; don't judge anyone on someone else's reputation."


	6. Chapter 6

Cottia came out of her room the next morning still wearing the clothes Merlin had given her. He was surprised. He had thought she would go back to her dress.

"You don't have to wear that yet," he said, breaking the silence that had lasted since their conversation about Arthur.

"I like them." She glared at him stubbornly. "Dresses are fine for playing, but I'm not used to them."

He nodded and turned away.

"Are you still mad at me?" The question came out in a rush.

"About what?"

"What I said about the King."

Merlin paused, one hand on the door handle. "No."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are. You think I'm stupid." There was a distinct quiver in the voice now. He looked back at her. She was standing by the table, her hands gripping the edge.

"No, I don't think you're stupid. I think you're jumping to conclusions because you are very young and have never had the chance to see what the real world is like. You've lived your whole life in a box and now that you've found your way out, you don't know what to do or who to trust." He walked over and took her hands. She tried to bite him. "Just say you're sorry."

She glared at him, caught by surprise. So was he. "Why?"

"Is that your answer for everything? Because Arthur is my best friend and someday he could be yours too."

He could see her mind thrashing about, going from fury to indignation to fear. She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them firmly. "What do you say? I know you're not a savage, regardless of how much you act like one," he added as she made a determined effort to bite his fingers again.

For some reason, that stopped her cold. She stared up at him, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes and her mouth suddenly tightening. "I'm sorry," she said after a long pause. He let go of her.

"Thank you."

"Don't you think I'm not worth bothering with?" She shot the question at him fiercely.

"Why would I think that?"

"Most people do."

"I'm not most people."

0000

The look on her face stayed with him for the rest of the day. He had never seen that expression in human eyes. He had seen it before in the eyes of frightened animals. She was very much like a frightened animal, he decided, one that had been so mistreated that its only reactions left were to flee or fight.

"I saw you teaching the girl how to ride," said Arthur, breaking in on his thoughts. "How does she do at it?"

"She has a good sense of balance," Merlin answered absently.

"Will she be ready to come with us on patrol?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Merlin." Arthur caught his servant by the back of the collar as he passed him. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Ow! Nothing! Nothing much, anyway." Merlin tried to wriggle out of Arthur's grip. The door opened and Gwen came in. She rolled her eyes.

"Leave him alone, Arthur."

Arthur released Merlin and gave her a look of angelic innocence. Merlin straightened his scarf and smiled at Gwen.

"I will never understand men," she announced sadly. "If you see women acting like you two, they're almost certainly mortal enemies, but you seem to communicate by hitting each other."

"Actually, Arthur hits me. I can't hit back."

"Yes, so you call me names I'm pretty sure aren't even real insults before you make them up."

"Whatever. Why don't you stop acting like children and try talking to each other for a change?"

"That's not as fun," Arthur protested. He went serious again. "Really, Merlin. What's wrong?"

"She still thinks you're a tyrant," Merlin blurted out. "We had a bit of a fight about it."

"I haven't done anything to her! Have I?"

"Of course she doesn't have a good opinion of us. She's judging us by the only standards she's ever known for authority. Getting angry about it will get us nowhere," said Gwen sensibly. She looked at Arthur. "Why are you so anxious that she likes us?"

"She's smart. She has better ratings from the Other Side than even the Doctor. I need people who understand the Other Side and think out of the box if we're going to stand against them, and I need those people to be completely loyal."

Gwen considered, her head on one side. "That makes sense," she admitted.

"She'll turn out like Morgana if we don't take care of her." Merlin's statement dropped like an anchor into the conversation.

"Surely not," said Gwen eventually. "She doesn't have magic, in any case."

"But she's clever. She won't need it," said Merlin desperately. "You've barely spoken to her. I live with her! She's impressionable now, but if she gets the wrong ideas about you she'll turn against you forever."

"Well, don't fight with her, then," said Arthur. "Don't make it worse. She'll get plenty of opportunity to see me in my natural habitat when we're on patrol."

0000

Cottia hugged her knees. She was sitting in the big ledge of one of the windows in the long galleries that ran all along the outside of the castle looking down on the courtyard. She watched as Merlin and Arthur crossed the courtyard and vanished under the little arch that she now knew was the main way in and out of the keep.

He wasn't afraid of her. She could tell. People had always reacted the same way whenever she had said what she truly thought about something; they went quiet and left in a hurry and then she found herself in trouble. Again. But Merlin had said what he thought right back, and she had been wrong and he had been right. She'd known that, but she'd kept fighting him anyway. And he still hadn't been afraid. He'd even made her apologize!

Most of her was still furious, but now the anger was joined by humiliation and embarrassment and a tiny bit of something she could not understand. Why was she so happy that he had corrected her?

Some knights were down in the courtyard now. They'd ridden in from the town. It was probably some kind of patrol. She dug her nails into her arms. Now she'd probably never be taken out on patrol. It hadn't sounded like much fun being wet and cold and on a horse for days, but someone had wanted her, and that had not happened to her very much in her life.

Yeah, cause even your parents didn't really want you. So why will Merlin care about you? You've know him for what, two months? Why do you want him to care? The thoughts bubbled up from some part of her brain she usually kept strictly clamped down. "That's not true," she whispered, leaning her forehead on her knees. "I had to go to school and learn things. They wanted me to go to the best schools. That's why they sent me away, so they could work for more money. They couldn't have brought me if they'd wanted - even though they had wanted to."

But other kids grew up in the farming towns, and they'd moved in with their parents, the voice said irrepressibly. "Shut up," she hissed. "They were losers. They'd never have any kind of life there." But they were happy and they didn't get punished every week, the voice taunted. Some of them didn't even have to get portals. Ever. "Shut up!"

0000

The footsteps echoed briskly around the vaulted ceiling of the gallery. "There you are," said a familiar voice. "I've got some time now, so let's go practice - Cottia?"

Merlin looked at the girl huddled miserably on the ledge, her arms wrapped around her knees and reaching up to cover her head. "Cottia," he said gently, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. She twisted around so fast that she would have fallen off and landed in a heap on the floor if he had not caught her. "It's all right," he said. "Only me." He restrained himself with difficulty from patting her on the head. She really did look like a frightened trapped animal.

"Don't I scare you?" she said. "I've always scared everyone else. Even my parents." Her eyes widened and her hands tightened. "No, not them," she added quickly.

"I told you I'm not most people. You don't scare me. Why was everyone else scared of you?"

"Because I had Thoughts and the portal could not stop them. They said I was sick, that I was possessed and had to fight the parasite. But I knew I was not. I'm not a host. I am the monster." She shrank away from him. "You've been kind to me, the only person ever to be."

"What about Sophie?" He had seen her happily walking around the town with the girl - who was incidentally the youngest adopted daughter of the Doctor, who was probably the only person in Camelot who had been through the same experiences as a child as Cottia. He wondered if she knew that.

"Sophie is still scared of me. Everyone is scared of me. That's how I know that I'm the monster. You don't know how that feels."

Merlin stood up, and pulled the cowering girl up beside him. "Actually, I do know how that feels. I know what it's like to fear for your life for something you cannot help possessing and that is not evil in itself. I thought I was a monster when I was your age."

Cottia stared into his blue eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. "But you don't think you are now?"

"I know I'm not."

"How?"

"I had a mentor. Someone who knew my secret and who believed in me. He encouraged me to be friends with Arthur. He helped me see that there is a place in the world for my gifts."

Cottia stared up at him for a long moment. "Will you do the same for me?" she said so softly he could barely hear it.

"Yes, I will." He took her hand. "Come on, little sister. Let's go practice riding."

She followed him meekly down the stairs and over to the stables. "Yes, brother."

0000

Today, Steady didn't seem quite as big, and his movements were a bit less unpredictable. Merlin talked Cottia through putting the saddle on, and that was not as scary as it seemed, either.

She walked Steady in circles around the stable yard for about half an hour. After the first few circuits, Merlin didn't even walk beside her, but stood watching in the middle. He saw that she had good posture and gentle hands, and was happy. Those were things that were hard to teach. He beckoned her to come to him.

When Steady stopped beside him, he looked up at his rider searchingly. Her eyes were still slightly pink-rimmed. Although she had not been crying when he had found her, she had looked as though she had been moments before. The best thing to do now was give her something else to think about.

"How is your shoulder doing? Would it stand another half hour of something a little different?"

"I suppose."

"Good." He moved to the horse's shoulder. "Follow me. Don't worry about the traffic." He led her through the streets of the town until they were in the fields between the wall and the woods. "Horses move more quickly than a walk, you know."

Some of the diffidence returned to her expression. Merlin swung himself up behind her. She shifted uneasily. "I won't let you fall," he reassured.

It's not that, she thought, but no one has ever been this close to me. Not while I was in any condition to notice them. She nodded. Merlin's arms were around her, holding the reins, and she could feel his warmth and how he was much better than her at moving with the horse.

"Don't we weigh too much for him?" she asked.

"You're a featherweight and I'm not that much heavier." She could hear the smile in his voice as he continued, "It's just like Merry and Dernhelm."

"Who?"

"Oh, you probably haven't gotten that far yet. That's later in the Red Book."

An uncontrollable smile broke free from her at the mention of the book. "I finished the first story, but I'm having trouble with the second," she confessed. "The words and sentences are so much different from what I'm used to. It hasn't been revised, has it?"

"No," said Merlin, turning Steady towards a path into the woods and letting him speed up into a trot. "You'll have the same problem when I find the books you asked me for. I've located some copies of them, but they're original editions. I should get them within the month. I'm sorry it's so slow, but books from the Other Side are rather a secret market. Nothing's officially wrong with reading them, it's just that most people aren't interested."

"I'll learn to read them," Cottia said firmly.

Arthur Pendragon leaned on the parapet of the outer wall and watched the two little figures on the horse enter the forest.

"What is it, Arthur?" Guinevere had come up. She slipped her hand inside his arm and stood beside him. He smiled at her.

"Merlin's teaching Cottia to ride. I think this is only her second lesson; she's a quick learner if he's already taking her into the forest. He's up behind her," he added as Gwen looked concerned.

"He likes her," she said. "I think he pities her because he sees a reflection of himself in her."

Arthur considered. "I suppose he does." He looked both directions along the wall. There was no one in sight, but he whispered anyway. "Don't you remember anything about - you know, Merlin? Didn't Gaius ever tell you?"

"Not in so many words, Arthur, and I can't be sure I'm putting the right interpretation on what he said. Why can't you just ask him yourself?"

They had had this conversation many times before, and it always went the same way. "Because I want him to tell me himself. If I ask him, it's like an accusation. If he tells me, it's because he trusts me. I want him to trust me enough to do that."

"The solution is simple. Legalize magic in Camelot."

"But if you are interpreting Gaius's words wrongly? If my memories are wrong? I can't remember anything clearly between being stabbed and coming out of the lake. Then what will happen to us? It could destroy the kingdom just like it did in Father's time."

Gwen sighed. "So we do nothing."

"So I keep trying to show Merlin he can trust me with his life."

"He'll be doing that if he does have magic and he tells you again."

Arthur shook his head irritably as some guards jingled past. "What do you think of the girl?"

"I pity her too. She needs to find her feet here. I think Merlin is the best person to help her. That reminds me: he asked me to find a warm jacket for her. I should go." Gwen shivered slightly. "It's definitely becoming winter now."

"Yes. We should start getting some of the big storms soon. I'll have to tell the men to make sure the lightning rods are working properly."

0000

Merlin nudged Steady and the horse began to canter. Cottia liked that. It was smoother. She looked around in surprise as he pressed the reins into her hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Your turn to steer. It's just the same as before."

They rode on in silence for a while. Merlin had put his hands on her waist. "That way," he said, directing her to the left at a fork in the path. They climbed up a hill and emerged on the top. There were no trees at the top, and a crumbling stone tower.

"This used to be a guard tower," said Merlin as they stopped. "We don't have the men to repair it now."

Cottia looked out over the way they had come. The castle looked fragile from up here, a delicate conglomeration of white lace. "That reminds me of my favorite book from when I was little," she said. "From before I went to school. It was about a girl who decided to become a witch to show people that witches weren't evil. She had friends who were little blue men that stole sheep, and she rescued the Baron's son from the Queen of Fairyland."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why do people always hate wizards?"

Merlin was very glad she could not see his face. "I don't know."

"Because whenever people talk about them they say they're evil. But Tiffany wasn't evil, and neither is Gandalf. Why do people get so strange about magic?"

"Magic is dangerous, Cottia. It isn't evil in itself, but - if the heart of the person who has it is bad, it can do more damage than you can possibly imagine."

"How do you know?" There was no hostility in her voice, just curiosity.

"I have known people with magic," he said carefully. "It's a real force here. It doesn't seem to work in your world, but it does work here."

"Then why haven't I seen any wizards?"

"Magic is banned in Camelot. The penalty for using it is death."

"What? Why?"

"Arthur's father nearly lost the kingdom because of sorcerers. He decided to be safe and execute them all. Arthur is less brutal - he at least gives the unfortunate children who are born with magic a chance to escape - but he has never repealed the law."

"How do you mean born with magic?"

"Magic isn't really something you choose to learn. Either you are born with it or you're not. You can't help having it. Oh, you can learn a little if you aren't born with it, but people who do that only ever have a fraction of the power true sorcerers have." Cottia felt the coldness in Merlin's voice.

"So the king before this one killed people because of something they couldn't help? But that's no better than killing people because of their skin color."

"I know." Now he sounded incredibly sad. "There used to be an execution every week, if not more often. Uther was mad at the end, I think. It didn't help that his ward, who he loved like a daughter, was a sorceress. He didn't know when he adopted her, and neither did she. Her half-sister turned up one day and told her, poisoned her mind and filled it with bitterness and hate. She spent the rest of her life trying to kill both Uther and Arthur."

"What was her name?"

"Morgana."

"That's a beautiful name."

"She was a beautiful woman. But she was cold. At the end, she was just like Uther: willing to slaughter thousands just to make a point. She was the leader in the battle that killed Arthur."

"But he isn't dead now. How did that happen? Did she come back to life too?"

"I hope not." Cottia felt Merlin's hands tighten on her waist. "Arthur was healed in the Lake of Avalon, but it took three thousand years for him to rise again. And Camelot slept for most of that time. For them, it's just been about a decade since he died."

She stared out at the castle. "What will you do now? I mean, if this is a bubble universe, what is there to do?"

"We'll find our place again," said Merlin. "Camelot is destined to be a great kingdom, and Arthur is the Once and Future King. We will survive."


	7. Chapter 7

Gwen came to Merlin's rooms later that night, with a big basket. When she came in, she glanced around quickly.

"Is Cottia here?"

"She's asleep. Do you want her?"

"No, no," Gwen said quickly. "I was hoping she wouldn't be here."

"Why?" Merlin courteously took the basket from her.

"That's the jacket, and a few other things. But I'd prefer it if she didn't know they're from me."

"Why not?"

"Merlin, she doesn't have much. I know how that feels. It's humiliating to always have to accept charity."

He looked at Gwen thoughtfully. "I see. What should I tell her?"

"That they're just standard issue? I don't know. Invent something plausible. You've lied enough for Arthur to have some good experience. But you may have to alter them a little more." Gwen opened the basket and they looked in. "I found some of the clothes Arthur wore when he was a boy. I think she'll fit the ones I picked out. And there's a dress I don't need anymore. And then -" She lifted out the clothes she had mentioned and revealed what was underneath. "She could use these, couldn't she? She's a bit shorter and thinner, but I think they'll be perfect. It's not like anyone else will ever use them."

Merlin looked down. It was a light chain mail tunic. The links were much finer and closer than the usual stuff the knights wore, and it had a lower neckline with a wide collar. There was also a belt, about six inches wide, made of strips of metal. He recognized it instantly. "I don't suppose anyone ever will," he agreed. "Funny, I hadn't thought of it, but she is just about the same as Morgana, isn't she? Shorter and thinner, but much the same in build.''

"And if Cottia ever needs a formal dress, there are lots, still packed up in chests. And all Morgana's jewels."

"Not that she will. But it's good of you to let her have these."

0000

It was just after dawn, and wisps of fog were floating just above the ground. Cottia sat on the cold steps and waited for the rest of the patrol to come out. Merlin sat beside her.

She had a horse of her own now. It was a small, placid, dainty filly. She was dark brown with a cream mane and tail. Cottia had named her Goldberry, because she had just struggled to that chapter in the Red Book. It was strange how much the language had changed since it was written.

The air was cold and damp. Cottia shivered and drew her new jacket more closely around herself. She liked it very much. It was leather, and lined with dark fur. And she liked her new boots. They looked like Merlin's except that his had three buckles and hers had two.

He had explained the path of the patrol to her. They weren't going to go around the actual border of the kingdom. That would take weeks. But the castle was in pretty much the exact middle of the kingdom, and the kingdom was shaped like a circle. They were going to ride out in a wide circle and visit little guard posts that were all set about a day away from the border. From there, the King could decide if he needed to go all the way to the border to deal with any incidents, and it also kept the guards' morale up.

"Here they come," said Merlin, standing up. The King came down the steps. Sir Leon and Sir Percival followed him. That was why there were only five horses in the square, Cottia thought.

"Where are the others?" she asked as Merlin helped her mount.

"We'll pick them up at the gate. Only two knights are coming this time. The others are needed here."

The Queen came to the top of the steps and waved as they clattered away. The horses' hooves were shockingly loud on the stones.

Six more men joined them at the town gate. They wore chain mail like the King and the knights, but not the red cloaks. They formed a column behind the King, riding in pairs. Cottia and Merlin were at the back.

They rode through the forest for about half the day before coming to the first guard post. Cottia looked around it, interested. It was just a little stone tower, about the size of the one Merlin's chambers were in. The King was busy talking to the guards in the main hall. She noticed that some of them were staring at her.

"Why are they staring at me?" she asked Merlin as they set off to find the next tower.

"They don't expect to see a girl on patrol," he said.

"Why not?"

"Most girls around here don't ride with knights."

Cottia frowned. "Then why am I? You're acting like I'm a boy. Why?"

"Why not?" Merlin countered. "You're more intelligent than most boys your age, you're quicker, and you have more stability."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you aren't always trying to prove you're tough."

"I still don't get it," Cottia complained.

"Watch the boys in training to be fighters when we get back home. You'll see."

0000

They were halfway between guard posts when they stopped for the night. It was a lot simpler than Cottia had expected. The King just stopped, looked around, and said, "We'll camp here." And everyone got off their horses and unpacked their bags. Two of the men-at-arms led the horses off and fed them, and the others started a fire near the open patch of ground they were tethered in.

Merlin started another fire further back in the trees, and the King and both knights settled down beside it. Apparently, there were two camps.

"So what do you think?"

Cottia looked up, startled. The King was talking to her. "About what?"

"This." He waved a hand vaguely around them. They were all leaning back against the trunks of fallen trees, and the firelight created the sensation of being in a room. Above them, through the leaves, stars shone brightly.

"It's cold."

"Yeah, that's normal. What about the guard posts?"

"Well - why are they so far away from the border?"

He nodded, and she got the feeling that she had passed some kind of test. "This used to be the border. Then it moved to a half day away, and then a full day. So you think they need to be closer?"

"Yes." She watched Arthur as he poked the fire idly with a long twig.

"We could do it if we had the men," said Leon.

They got into a very technical discussion. Merlin sat a little way back from the light and watched Cottia. She was listening intently. He wondered what Arthur was planning on doing with her. He seemed to think she was some kind of weapon in the making, to be used against the intruders from the Other Side.

0000

Cottia woke up in the middle of the night. The fire had died away to almost nothing. She could barely see the dark shape beside her that was Merlin, curled up asleep in his cloak like her, although she could hear him breathing. It comforted her. Arthur and Leon and Percival were shinier shapes on the other side of the fire. Good grief, how do they sleep in their armor? she wondered.

There was another dark shape standing a little way off. It was the sentry, she realized. But he hadn't woken her. Something else had. She moved a little closer to Merlin and went back to sleep.

She dreamed of a dip in the ground. At the bottom was a well. All around the hollow, pieces of ragged cloth were tied to the branches of the trees and to ropes stretched between the trees. A hooded person appeared and stood beside the well. It held out a hand to her, but she couldn't take it, because she was seeing all this through some kind of screen. All around her was a blue-white light, and the sound and smell of water dripping on rock. She caught a glimpse of blue eyes and dark hair beneath the hood.

"Come on," said Merlin, touching her shoulder. "Time to get up."

Cottia growled at him and sat up, reluctantly shedding her warm cloak and coming out into the cold morning air.

0000

The second day was much like the first, except for Cottia now had sore muscles from riding. The King wasn't as stuffy as she had expected. It was a bit like going on a road trip with four of your big brothers. She was actually enjoying herself. The third day started out like the others, but finished quite differently.

They'd made a little over half the circuit of the guard posts, and were now riding along the top of a range of hills. Below them, the forest was thick, and they could see the castle on the horizon. The hills were steep, cliffs in some parts, and the path was the only reliable way down.

As they descended down into the forest, Cottia noticed a little carved stone by the side of the trail. It had the faint impression of three swirls on it, all connected in the center. As he passed it, Arthur stopped and dismounted.

"Sheathe your swords," he said firmly. "We'll walk past it. No sense in being disrespectful."

Cottia watched in bewilderment as the men-at-arms hurriedly dismounted and pressed on close behind the King, keeping their eyes fixed on the ground. Leon and Percival were also solemn and watchful. She turned to Merlin.

"What is it?" she asked.

He came closer. "It's the site of an old druid camp. It's always a good idea to show that you come in peace when you're near them; strange things can happen."

"Like Old Man Willow?" she suggested, her face eager.

"A bit. But there is no Tom Bombadil here to rescue you." He was amused to see that she stuck close by his side after that.

As they walked on, leading the horses, the ground began to dip sharply on the right side of the path. It bent suddenly, leaving a clear view of a long narrow cleft between two arms of the hill. There was a well in the center, and the branches of the trees in the ravine were adorned with faded strips of fluttering cloth. Cottia stared. She had seen this exact place in her dream.

There was one difference from her dream. The hooded figure was not there. She scanned the trees on either side of the well for it, straining to see through the gloom. The clouds were thickening; a storm was blowing in.

"Cottia?" She had stopped walking. Merlin had given Steady to Leon and was now standing in front of her. "What is it?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Nothing," she said.

"Are you sure?" He looked at her carefully. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

"It's nothing. I just - this place looks familiar. I think I saw a picture of it in a book."

That was possible, Merlin thought. But somehow I think she's lying. I'll have to watch her. "Come on," he said gently. "We'd better not linger."

0000

That night they camped in a shallow cave in the cliff. It faced the castle, and until the light drained completely from the sky they could see it white in the distance.

The horses and the men-at-arms had their own cave, and Arthur, Leon, Percival, Merlin, and Cottia were all huddled in a smaller one. A cold wind had come in front of the storm.

"It's lucky the wind isn't blowing from Camelot," said Percival, coming in with a huge bundle of firewood, which he set down with a clatter. "There's rain coming too."

It was raining hard by the time they went to sleep. It was Merlin's turn to watch, and he sat beside the fire, looking at Cottia. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she was not asleep.

The way she had acted at the druid camp had worried him. Usually, only people with magic felt any inclination to investigate there. Normal people were scared away. But the way she had looked when he had spoken to her had reminded him, just for a second, of someone, and he could not think who.

There was a flash of lightning in the distance behind them, lighting up the sky just visible on the edge of the cave ceiling. The deep grumble of thunder followed after a long pause. Cottia sat up, her eyes wide.

"Why is it doing that?"

Merlin reached out and took her hand. To his surprise, she was trembling. "It's only a storm," he whispered.

"Is it coming here?" She sounded terrified.

"I don't know. I think it'll blow over us. It's all right," he added. "We're safe in here. The lightning will hit the trees if it strikes anywhere."

In the firelight, her face lost all its color. "I hate storms," she whimpered. The lightning came again and she grabbed his hand with both of hers. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as the thunder filled the air with solid blocks of sound. It was coming closer.

She clung to him, completely rigid until the noise stopped. When she raised her head, he saw that she was beginning to cry. "Sshhh," he said. "It's only noise. It can't hurt you."

He moved away from the fire and sat with his back to the cave wall. He made Cottia sit on his other side, away from the entrance. She buried her face in his shoulder as the storm blew overhead. He kept his arm around her and occasionally stroked her hair helplessly. He had never seen anyone so frightened of a storm.

"Why do you hate storms so much?" he asked during a lull.

"They used them for recalibration," she said into his shoulder. "The noises. And the shock. Every time I was different, it happened."

Merlin was silent. He knew something about 'recalibration', which to him sounded like a fancy term for torture. It was an automatic reaction administered by the portals, which would punish their owner every time an action that was not approved by society happened. No wonder Cottia was terrified of thunderstorms. She associated them with pain.

"The noise can't hurt you," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"You don't have your portal anymore. It's just a loud scary noise now. There won't be any aftereffects."

The only response was a sob. I have to distract her, he thought. He saw her bag lying on the floor within his reach. Inside it was the Red Book. He pulled it out and opened it. The fire had flared up again and now the light was just bright enough for him to see the pages. "Look, Cottia. Shall I read to you?"

She nodded. He began to read. Gradually, as she grew more absorbed in the story, he felt her relax. He glanced down at her a few times. Her eyes were shut, and she was listening intently.

Suddenly she spoke, repeating what he had just read. "'In the black wind the stars shall die, and still on gold here let them lie, till the dark lord lifts his hand over dead sea and withered land.' That's beautiful. Scary, but beautiful." There was wonder in her voice, and she recited the lines with perfect accent on the rhythm. Merlin shifted slightly and her eyes opened.

"You like poetry," he said. "That's why you like music so much."

"I never heard any before this. I didn't know they could tell stories." She settled back down.

"Most stories were poems before people started writing them down. That's how they remembered them."

"I like that."

He kept reading, until her breathing slowed and she fell asleep. The fire sank down into a dim glow of embers. The storm had passed over them long before and he could now watch the lightning reflecting off the distant spires of the castle. It was past his watch, but he didn't want to get up and disturb Cottia.

Arthur stirred and lifted his head. "Merlin. Why didn't you wake me?"

Merlin pointed to the sleeping girl wrapped in his cloak. Arthur got up and came to sit on his other side. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's frightened of the storm."

"Poor kid. Is she going to be able to cope with them?"

"I don't know. They used the noises as a conditioned stimulus to punish her."

Arthur looked angry. "We might be technology-free, but at least we don't torture people. That is more human and civilized to me."

"I know."

"Get some sleep. I'll watch."

Merlin carefully lifted the sleeping girl and set her down a little further away from the cave wall. He lay down next to her. Cottia rolled over and snuggled into his side again. Arthur smiled. "I think we've picked up a sister."

"She's a good person."

"I know, Merlin. I won't force her to do anything."

0000

Cottia woke up on horseback the next morning. She yawned and blinked and pushed aside the cloak, and squinted in the bright sunlight. Merlin was carrying her in front of him, and Goldberry was being led by Percival.

They were riding in the front, beside the King. As she peered around, he reached over and tousled her hair. "About time you got up," he said. "We were just talking about waking you. You don't want to miss the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

"What's that?" she asked, sitting up and trying to look alert.

"It's a big valley with lots of statues and caves," said Leon from somewhere behind her.

"And bandits," Merlin added.

"Why are we going through it?" she asked.

"It's a shortcut back to Camelot. Without it, we'd have to go over the hills and that would take an extra day," Arthur said cheerfully. "Also, if we ride through once in a while, it keeps the bandits from getting cheeky."

The ground became damper and mist began to swirl around as they rode down into the valley. Cottia had gotten onto Goldberry again, and now she was riding beside Percival. He looked over at her and smiled. "It should be fine. The bandits don't usually attack this many people together."

"I'm not scared," she said grumpily.

"You should be."

There were statues all over in the valley, overgrown with moss and vines and half obliterated by trees, but there was something majestic about them still. But Cottia couldn't see any sign of the caves. "Where are the caves?"

Arthur pointed off to one side. "The entrances are all small. They just look like cracks in the side of the cliffs. Some of them are, but some aren't."

"Supposedly, there is a cave filled with crystals here," said Leon. "The druids used to use it to . . . uh . . . do druid stuff."

"They could see the future in the crystals," Arthur said.

They were riding through a narrow ravine, steep sided and four times the height of a man. There was a sudden rattling from in front, and a boulder crashed down, just missing Arthur. He spun his horse around and pulled out his sword. A crowd of men came pouring down from the top and charged the patrol.

Cottia looked around, bewildered. There had been no one in sight seconds before; now there was a crowd of yelling men with weapons. Percival grabbed her arm and pulled her off her horse just as a crossbow bolt whistled past her head. They landed in a heap on the muddy ground. He pulled her to her feet and shoved her towards a clump of trees perched on the side of the ravine, drawing his sword with his other hand. "Get out of here!" he ordered as he turned to face four bandits rushing at him.

She ran towards the trees, but one of the men cut her off. He raised his sword and she froze. She'd always imagined battles in slow silence; in reality, they were scarily fast and very loud. She backed away and ducked as the man sliced at her, not even feeling the tip of the sword graze her cheek. She was cornered.

Arthur leapt in front of her and lunged forward. The bandit crumpled to the ground. From her position on hands and knees, Cottia stared at him. He looked very dead. A trickle of blood was oozing down from his mouth. She felt a hand grab the back of her jacket and Arthur hauled her up like a sack and pushed her behind him, protecting her from the second wave of the attack.

The fight was short and fierce, but it ended in defeat for the bandits. Arthur wiped his sword off and sheathed it. Then he turned to Cottia, still sheltering behind him. "Have you ever seen a battle before?"

She shook her head.

"You'll get used to it." He put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture she had seen him use before with his knights. "You didn't run. Good. Were you scared?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Even better. Courage isn't about not being afraid, it's about being absolutely terrified and still standing your ground." He smiled at her, and she could not help smiling back. Merlin came up to them.

"Cottia, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Merlin dabbed at the cut on her cheek with a piece of cloth he found in his pocket. "Not bad for your first battle," Arthur said. She blinked.

"Where did that come from? It doesn't hurt."

"They never do when you get them," said Merlin. Arthur was looking at the dead bandits.

"Saxons," he said. He stooped and picked up a big clasp knife. It looked somehow out of place. Cottia stared at it for a while before realizing that the handle was made of plastic.

"Why did he have that?" she asked.

"Good question. I have been fearing that they are trading with the Other Side for some time now."

"There's another one over here, sire," Leon called. Arthur looked around.

"Take any anachronistic weapons you can find. Leave everything else."


	8. Chapter 8

The Queen was waiting on the steps when they finally rode into the courtyard, with a guard of knights. It was the time between sunset and darkness, and torches had been lit around the courtyard. To Cottia's tired gaze, they made the stones glisten like diamonds.

Later that night, after she had taken a long bath and changed out of her muddy clothes, she settled down on the couch with the Red Book. But it was much harder reading it to herself, and she missed the sound of Merlin's voice.

Merlin looked up from mending a tear in one of Arthur's shirts to see Cottia looking at him wistfully. "What?"

She exhibited the book. He took it from her.

"Do you want me to read more of it to you?"

She nodded. "I like it."

When he finished the chapter - and the hobbits were safe in the inn at Bree under Strider's watchful care - he looked over at his audience. Cottia had built a small mound of pillows and was lying back in it, looking at him through mostly closed eyes. They opened a little wider as he watched, and she sat up, dislodging the grey blanket from around her shoulders.

"What did you think of going on patrol?"

"It was cold and sort of grubby," she replied sincerely. "But the land is beautiful, and I liked the feeling. And riding all day gets really tiring."

"The feeling?"

She waved her hands vaguely in the air. "Like a team."

"I enjoy that too. It used to be much more fun when the original Round Table was still alive."

"How many of you were there?"

"There ended up being ten of us. Myself, Arthur, Guinevere, my mentor, and six knights - Leon, Percival, Lancelot, Elyan, and Gwaine."

"That's only five."

"The sixth joined later, but . . . he was very young, and fell into bad company, and . . . well, he was the person who killed Arthur."

"Oh," she said a little blankly. "Why?"

"It was mostly about a girl, I think. He was in love with a girl who supported Morgana. When the girl came to Camelot and tried to kill Arthur, he couldn't see why she couldn't be set free. Arthur had to execute her. He gave her every chance to change."

"And what happened to the other knights?"

"Gwaine died trying to protect Arthur. Elyan died saving his sister - he was the Queen's brother - from Morgana. Lancelot died repairing the veil between this world and the world of the dead so that the Dorocha wouldn't kill everyone in the kingdom."

"What's a Dorocha?"

"A spirit of the dead. Supposedly."

She sat up a little further. "How do you mean?"

"Well, since these people started returning from the dead, I've been wondering why the Dorocha were so ferocious. But it doesn't really matter. They invaded this world through the veil by someone sacrificing themselves and the guardian of the veil demanded another sacrifice to close it. Magic can be brutal."

"Who was the first sacrifice?"

"Morgana's older half-sister. Morgause was her name. Same mother, different father."

"Why did she kill her sister?"

"I don't know, but I suspect it was on Morgause's orders. She was that kind of person. They weren't much alike to look at, but they had the same expressions and the same personality. Both were very ambitious, and proud, and brave, and had a strong sense of justice, even if it was warped. They could have been either very good or very bad."

"And they were very bad?"

Merlin sighed. "Unfortunately. Morgana led a failed attempt to take over the throne with Morgause providing the army. They were both caught in a collapse of one of the towers and vanished. A patrol found Morgana much later with someone they couldn't identify, but her companion was sick and I personally am sure it was Morgause."

Cottia yawned uncontrollably. "Why did she hate Uther so much?"

"She felt that he had killed Gorlois, her father." Merlin decided that she didn't need to know that Morgana's father was actually Uther. It was sort of an open secret in the castle, but most people had forgotten it or just didn't care. "He hadn't, but he had sent him into battle and was delayed in coming to his aid. Morgana was ten when he died and she was brought here. And Uther wasn't a very reasonable or loving person, though she could usually get what she wanted. She was a very unhappy person."

"That's awful," she murmured.

"Time for bed," said Merlin. "You can barely keep your eyes open."

0000

A few days later, he gave her her own music player. She kept taking the one in the main room. It was much smaller than his, but it would still hold quite a lot. Oddly enough, he was better at using technology than she was. She was particularly frustrated by the laptop he had salvaged and brought back from the Other Side. When she tried to load some music from it onto her device, he found her staring at the screen in furious impatience. He had to explain the function of a track pad to her.

"But this is stupid," she complained. "Why doesn't it know what I want? All the other screens always did."

"You don't have your portal anymore. How could it know what you want?" he asked reasonably. She deflated a little.

"So this one can't tell what I think about anything?"

"No. That's why you have to actually touch it."

She beamed. "But that means I can lie to it, and it won't know."

"I think we're working from different ends of the conversation here," said Merlin slowly. "What do you mean when you say computer?"

"Interface with my portal to display information on a screen."

"Right. Well, this computer is both the portal and the screen all in one."

"But how does it store anything without using someone's brain?"

"Everything is on little chips made of minerals. Don't ask me how it works. I just know how to operate it. But it uses no living brain from a human whatsoever."

That helped a little, but she still struggled with the concept of touching the machine to make it work. Apparently, now the technology on the Other Side had gone so far that the human using the computer was the computer, and they all had portals to link everyone's thoughts and memories. It sounded horrific to Merlin. He understood now why she had been so desperate to get her portal removed. How could anyone keep a secret if millions of other people could randomly surf their memories?

On the other hand, it would have been very nice to have thought control over his laptop. He had limited control over it using magic, but of course he couldn't do anything like that in front of Cottia.

0000

About a month later, Cottia was lying in bed and listening to her music. She liked doing that. Headphones made a little world of sound. It was much funner than getting the vibrations streamed directly into her brain. It was very late, past midnight. She was supposed to be asleep, but she didn't feel sleepy. There was one song in particular that she liked very much, all about a battle between birds and bees told from the perspective of some kind of furry animal. It made her feel free, and it told a little story.

She turned over and faced the windows. The night was clear and crisp. She'd had to put an extra blanket on her bed a few nights before. Merlin had said that it would start to snow before long. She was excited. She'd never seen real snow, just heard about it. The moonlight was so bright that the frames in the window left shadows on the floor.

A shape drifted lazily across the moon. Cottia watched idly. It was a dragon. And it was big, probably big enough to fill the courtyard. She smiled as it soared up into the sky, spiraling up on an invisible column of air and twisting at the top to float down again.

A dragon! She sat up suddenly. A real dragon! She jumped up and ran to the window, abandoning her music on the bed. She pressed her nose to the cold glass and held her breath to avoid fogging up the window. It looked like it was golden, with four legs and claws on the ends of its wings. This was awesome, although it would have been cooler if it had been red, like Smaug. Oddly enough, none of the sentries she could see pacing the battlements as little points of reflected light seemed to notice it at all. But it was huge! She pinched her cheek hard, digging her nails in. Yes, she was awake.

This was worth waking Merlin up for. She grabbed the blanket off the top of her bed and clutched it around her shoulders like a cloak. It really was cold. Even the nice warm sleeping clothes Merlin had given her weren't enough. She padded across the main room, her bare feet acutely sensitive to the warm spot on the wood floor around the stove.

Cottia scratched gently on Merlin's door, feeling slightly guilty. Usually, she did not enter his room, and he did not enter hers. Their rooms were their own private spaces and they each had respect for that. But a real dragon outside was cool. He wouldn't want to miss that. Maybe he even knew something about dragons. He knew a lot about a lot of things.

She shyly pushed the door open. It wasn't locked. To her surprise, Merlin wasn't there. He hadn't slept in his bed yet, either, and his night clothes were still lying on the blankets. What a shame, she thought. He must have had to go do something for Arthur. He probably won't notice the dragon, then. But she hadn't heard him leave. Well, to be fair, she had had her headphones in.

Abandoning the problem, she went to the windows. His room was a mirror image of hers. Since he wasn't there, she swung the glass aside and leaned out cautiously, drawing the blanket up over her head to keep out the cold. It wasn't like he'd care about the draft.

The dragon was still circling above the forest. She watched it for ten minutes, her eyes shining. Then, to her surprise, it swooped down towards the ground and disappeared from view. Why had it landed there? Surely every sentry on the walls could see it now. She strained her ears to hear shouts or maybe the warning bell. Silence wrapped the castle and the town. The dragon was unnoticed.

She stayed by the window for another half hour, but it didn't reappear. Eventually, tired and very cold, she closed the window and went and stood by the stove for a few minutes and then went to bed. She dreamed of dragons, a big golden one and a smaller white one with big blue eyes like Merlin's and another tiny one, small enough to perch on a shoulder, that was bluey-green and shimmered in sunlight like ripples on water.

0000

"Did Arthur send for you last night?"

Merlin glanced at Cottia across the table. She had started referring to Arthur by name, instead of just 'the King'. He was glad.

"Yes," he said. "He - uh, couldn't find something."

"That's too bad. You missed seeing the dragon."

Merlin froze. "Dragon? What dragon?" He managed to keep his voice level. He'd gone out the previous night to talk to Kilgarrah - not about anything in particular, just to keep in touch. He missed the old dragon bitterly at times, as much as he missed Gaius and had missed Arthur. But how in the name of sanity had Cottia seen him?

She shrugged, peacefully unaware of the panic she had caused him. "A big golden dragon. It flew around above the forest for a while and then landed and I fell asleep before it left. I know I was awake," she said, mistaking his expression for doubt. "I went to tell you, but you were out."

"A big golden dragon," he repeated slowly. She had seen Kilgarrah. But how? How? He couldn't be seen by ordinary people. Merlin had made sure of that.

"It was beautiful," she said dreamily. "I didn't think dragons had claws on their wings, though. Bilbo didn't say anything about that." She added the last sentence accusingly.

"Maybe the dragons are different in Arda," Merlin suggested absently, giving her a searching look. She didn't look different. He had been sure that Cottia didn't have magic. For one thing, her coloring was all wrong. Most people with magic had black hair and blue or green eyes. He wasn't sure why, but it was something to do with the genetics. Morgause, with her blond hair and brown eyes, had been a singular anomaly.

But her behavior at the druid camp was suggestive, and now she had apparently seen Kilgarrah. Well, he couldn't say anything now. What if he was wrong? She'd shown no other signs of magic.

"There are very few dragons left," he said, trying for a conversational tone. "Most of them were hunted down and killed by Uther. That's why the royal crest is a dragon. He was proud of being the only king to be so successful in hunting dragons. After all, they're like portable flamethrowers with big teeth and claws. It takes a lot to kill one."

"That's awful!" she said indignantly. "I bet he cheated."

"Sort of," Merlin admitted. "He tricked the Dragonlords into helping him. But then he killed most of them too, so dragons and people who understand them are pretty much extinct."

"What's a Dragonlord?"

"Some people are born with the ability to speak to and command dragons. It runs in families. The power is passed down from father to son. They're brothers to the dragons - it's not really magic. It was close enough for Uther, though."

"That's cool." Cottia frowned. "Why was Uther so obsessed with getting rid of magic?"

"It's a long story," said Merlin, getting up. "But in a nutshell, he wanted an heir and couldn't have one, so he went to the High Priestess and asked for her help. His wife conceived a child, but according to the old religion, in order to create a life, a life must be taken. His wife died giving birth. So Uther was furious, because Nimueh - that was her name - hadn't told him it would happen."

"Whose name?"

"The High Priestess's. Anyway, Uther decided all magic was evil and set out to kill everyone who had it. It was called the Great Purge. Very few sorcerers or Dragonlords escaped."

Cottia was looking perplexed. "But he had an heir, didn't he? What about Arthur?"

"Arthur was the child that was born."

"What? So he keeps the ban on the thing that gave him life? That's rather hypocritical."

"Most people don't know he was born using magic, Cottia. You mustn't speak of it. And he does allow some sorcerers to practice in Camelot. Why do you think Alice is so successful at curing people? And there are a few others that he employs when he needs to, and he doesn't interfere with people using magic as long as they do it quietly and aren't malicious. Really, he treats it just like training soldiers for the army. There are always a few bad men who use their skills and weapons for evil regardless of how they're treated."

"But it's still - " Cottia began.

"Listen to me. Magic is not a toy. It's a dangerous force. Not using magic is the best thing to do with it if you've got it. Look around you. Magic is what destroyed this kingdom, put it to sleep for thousands of years, and splintered it off from your world. Arthur is right to be cautious. He needs to be cautious."

"I suppose. But I wish I could meet a dragon," she said wistfully. "Can they really talk?"

"How should I know?"

She looked startled. "I just wondered. You know lots of things."

"Oh. Well. Yes, they can talk to Dragonlords, and I suppose that if they're taught our language, they could speak to us too."

"Do you know where to find dragons?"

"No. They're very cautious. I suppose they live away from everyone in the mountains."

"Then why was that one here last night?"

"I have no idea," Merlin lied. "Maybe it was hunting."


	9. Chapter 9

Cottia wandered down to the stables after he had gone. Their horses were looked after by the men there, but she liked to see Goldberry herself. After all, once you got used to them, horses were rather nice. And the stables were always warm.

She was leaning on the closed gate of the stall and feeding her horse when a voice behind her made her jump.

"Hello, Miss Cottia." It was Sir Percival. A string of teenage boys were behind him. They looked sweaty and eager, and all of them were wearing light armor and carrying weapons - although when she looked more closely she saw that they were old weapons with very blunt edges.

She nodded to Percival. The boys were staring at her. Some of them were giggling furtively. She stared back at them. They looked away.

"What are you?" said one of the boys, who was bigger than the rest. "Some kind of freak?"

Percival gave him a look. The boy grinned back.

"What are you? Some kind of bully?" Cottia had seen his kind before. Oh, so many times before. They were always the same.

He reached as the line filed past her and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking hard. It had grown out a little, but it was still only shoulder-length. She twisted like a snake and sank her teeth into his hand hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang of it filled her mouth and some instinct made her thrust up her hand and rake his face with her fingernails as he tried to back away. He yelped. Percival turned and grabbed him by the collar, effortlessly lifting the boy several inches off the floor.

"Cottia is a personal servant of the King. You will treat her with respect." He looked at the red furrows on the boy's face and the blood dripping from his hand, and then at Cottia, who was calmly wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Percival looked impressed as he hauled the boy away.

She was half expecting him to tell on her to the King or to Merlin (and she was not sure which she dreaded more), but instead he accosted her just as she was leaving the stables about ten minutes later.

"I'm sorry about Nicholas, Cottia. He is a bully."

She shrugged. "I know. I was a delinquent. I've seen his kind before."

Percival was slightly taken aback at her calm, but he continued. "I spoke to Sir Leon, and he agreed with me - this is just an idea between the two of us - that we should teach you a little about how to fight."

"What for? Will I need to?"

"It will make you safer. For one thing, you'll be able to hold your own in an attack like the one when we were on patrol, and for another -" He seemed embarrassed.

"What?" she demanded as he seemed unwilling to continue.

"You are a singular person. You dress like a boy all the time, and you have a boy's job. You ride with us as a servant to do the work of a boy, not as a maid or a messenger for a lady. Uh - well, in fact, there has never been a girl quite like you in Camelot, at least so openly. You are attractive and also unusual, and because of that, you will be bullied by your peers."

She looked up at Percival. It made her neck ache. He was very tall. "So? That's no different from all the rest of my life. There have always been people who hated me. I don't spend much time out alone, anyway."

"You still need to learn how to fight. Even Merlin knows the basics of combat. How do you suppose he has survived for so long when he accompanies Arthur on the most perilous of quests?"

"Well, all right. What do I have to do?"

Percival beamed. He held out a long dagger in a plain black sheath. "We agreed that this would be the most suitable for you to start with. You're not strong enough to use a sword, and you probably won't want to carry one. But a good dagger can go anywhere with you, and it can be very effective. The techniques you learn with it can be easily adapted to a sword if you ever find yourself with one. Are you doing anything important in the next hour?"

She shook her head.

"Then come with me and I'll start your training."

He didn't let her use the dagger at first. They used wooden practice weapons from the school the King had set up to train young men. After the battle in which he died, the casualties of his knights had been so high that one of his first decisions when he returned was to open a school to teach all suitable young men the skills to be good soldiers. Traditionally, the boys would have trained with real weapons from day one, but Arthur wanted quantity over quality. He had not promised to knight every graduate of the school, only the ones who showed him they were worthy. The others would still be highly trained regular soldiers.

Cottia rather enjoyed the training, to her surprise. It was a bit like dancing, which she had always been good at, with the bonus that if you did it correctly, you could save your life. She had a very good sense of space and balance, but she was not fast.

After an hour, Percival stopped the lesson. "That's enough for today. You're picking the basic positions and footwork up very nicely."

"When can I use this?" she asked, picking up the dagger again.

"When you're skilled enough to not kill yourself with it."

"Oh."

"You'll train in armor then. I know that when you fight, you probably won't be wearing any, but it's better to be safe than dead by accident." Percival patted her shoulder. "Come find me tomorrow when you have an hour to spare. If I can't teach you, Sir Leon will. We're both overlooking the school for the boys right now, so we're down here and ready to teach most days."

'Down here' was in a large field outside the arena that the tournaments were held in. There were lots of little tents set up, and boys and knights were swarming over it as the battle school practiced. The clash of metal on metal and the drum of horse hooves rang around the space. Percival had been teaching her in a long narrow space back between the tents of the teachers, where no one had been watching them. He waved as she hurried back to the castle.

Cottia was very tired and rather sore that evening. Merlin had been surprised when she told him that Percival was training her, but he agreed that she needed to learn the basics. When she showed him her dagger and told him what Percival had said about armor, he looked thoughtful and then went and rummaged around in a chest in his room. He came out with an armful of metal.

"This is a lightweight set of chain mail made for a woman," he said. "It has all the padded underneath clothes too. It's not as much protection as you'd get from one of the standard sets, but it'll fit you better and it won't restrict your movement as much. It was made for flexibility."

She looked at it dubiously and then yawned. Merlin reached over and ruffled her hair. "Go to sleep. I have to help Arthur tonight. He has a lot of paperwork."

Cottia took a bath and went to bed, unaware of the storm clouds building up on the horizon.

0000

"She bit through the boy's hand?" Merlin repeated incredulously.

"Percival saw it. The boy tried to pull her hair, she bit his hand and put some deep scratches on his face with her fingernails." Arthur looked up from his reports. "The boy doesn't have a good reputation. I'm glad she stood up to him. He won't be good for much for a few weeks. Alice says the bite is deep."

Merlin was remembering the day that Cottia had been biting his fingers when she was angry with him. It had hurt, but it hadn't drawn blood or even left much of a mark. He shivered. She really was like a feral animal. "Are you sure you want her to know how to fight?"

"It's better than having her bite people. The unexpected is more dangerous. Anyway, she'll only be taught the basics. If she wants to make a career out of it, she'll have to teach herself."

"Maybe she'll become a knight," Merlin said only half-jokingly.

"Shut up, Merlin. Women aren't knights."

"Morgause beat you in fair trial."

Arthur scowled. "I was holding back. I didn't want to hurt her. Anyway, she was a sorceress."

"She didn't use magic in that fight."

"And how do you know that?" Arthur kept his tone casual, but he watched his servant's face intently from beneath his eyelashes. He thought he saw Merlin stiffen for an instant, but it was over before he could be sure.

"Look, I'd seen enough sorcery before that to know the difference between coincidence and magic."

And that was perfectly true, damn it anyway. Arthur internally groaned. Aloud, he said, "Well, if she turns out to be good enough, I'll knight her. After all, I promised to knight anyone who qualifies regardless of their birth. Perhaps it's time that that meant gender as well as social status."

"I think it should," said Merlin. There was a gust of wind that set papers rattling on the table and made the candles flicker. He went over and shut the window. Arthur got up and joined him. They looked out into the darkness together.

"I wonder if a storm - " Merlin started to say, but he was interrupted by a long flash that lit up the sky and showed the the seething pall of cloud that was sweeping towards them.

"I'm glad I got the lightning rods in order," said Arthur. "This looks like a big one."

There was a painfully loud roll of thunder, as if to emphasize his words. They could dimly hear the rain pounding the stones outside after it was over. The glass was already rippling with water. Merlin relit the candles that had gone out. He set down the match and froze. "Cottia," he said. Arthur looked up.

"She doesn't like storms, does she?"

"She's terrified of them. I have to go make sure - "

"Yeah, of course. Bring her back here if you like. There's no reason why you can't."

Merlin nodded distractedly and bolted out of the room.

0000

Cottia sat up as the echoes of the thunder died away, praying that she had dreamed it. But a light tore across the sky outside, making the darkness in her room even darker, and then another suffocating wave of sound came. She shook her blanket off and desperately put her hands over her ears. She couldn't breathe, the noise was so loud.

Light. She needed light, real light, not the flickering kind from the sky outside that only brought more darkness. Her fingers, fumbling across the surface of the table, found the candle and the box of matches, but she could not get one to light. Then there was thunder without the warning of lightning and she dropped the box, matches spilling everywhere. She panicked, and the candle blazed into life, sending a spout of flame taller than her up into the air. She stared at the column of fire. She hated fire almost as much as she hated storms. The door to her room flew open, and one of the panes of glass in a window shattered as another flash came.

She leapt out of bed and ran out of the room. She stumbled into someone just outside her door and struggled wildly as they held her. "Cottia, it's all right! It's just me."

It was Merlin. He held her by the elbows and shook her. "It's all right," he repeated. She grabbed the front of his jacket. "Go put your regular clothes on and come with me." He looked into her room. "Oh dear. We'll fix the window in the morning. Some always break from the thunder."

She clung to him as he he led her down the stairs and along endless corridors until they reached the King's apartments. It was a little quieter there, since they were no longer in a tower. The sound of the rain beating on the windows was oddly soothing, and so was the soft light of the candles. Cottia sat curled up in a corner beside the fire. Merlin and Arthur were close, and they were talking quietly. She had brought her music player with her, and that helped to drown out the sounds of the storm.

Gwen came in quietly, taking off a wet cloak. "It's awful out there."

Merlin took the cloak from her and hung it over the back of a chair to dry. Gwen went over to stand in front of the fire, and noticed Cottia asleep on the hearthrug. "Is she all right?"

"Oh good, she's asleep," said Merlin, looking over. "She's afraid of storms. I couldn't leave her on her own."

Arthur had gotten up and come to stand by Gwen. Now he knelt down and picked Cottia up. She stirred but did not wake up. He laid her gently across the foot of their bed.

"Good idea," said Gwen. She rummaged around in a cupboard and pulled out a blanket, which she placed over the girl. Then she sat in a chair by the fire. Arthur went back to his desk. Merlin leaned against the table and watched, occasionally handing Arthur more pieces of paper.

"I've been thinking," said Gwen after a long time. Arthur looked up and grinned.

"Oh, no," he said.

"I don't have a maid anymore," Gwen went on, ignoring him. "I haven't noticed it that much, to be honest, but it does get awkward sometimes. Do you think she'd be good at it, Merlin?"

"I don't know. She's neat and precise. You'd always be able to find your socks. They'd probably be cross-referenced."

"I wouldn't need her to actually attend me every day. But I was thinking, it would be more fair for you to have a helper. You take care of both of us, and you do a very good job." Merlin waved his hands, embarrassed. "No, it's true," Gwen protested. "You're more like a member of the family than a servant. Tell him, Arthur."

"Yes, Merlin, your laziness and incompetence do make you more like an annoying little brother than an actual, trained, servant. I don't know why I've put up with you for so long." Their eyes met, and there was no mistaking the teasing note in Arthur's voice.

"I don't know why I've stayed," Merlin replied in the same tone. "After all, there are lots of arrogant dollopheads to work for."

"Anyway," Gwen said firmly, "Cottia could help me with some of my more formal dresses, and it would look better if I had a maid with me when we sit in the throne room."

Arthur looked thoughtful. "That's a good point. We can't afford to look casual right now. We need all the ceremony and formality we can muster. People like a show. She'd basically just have to hang around with you a lot more, Merlin. Would you both be comfortable with that?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't mind her company. Once you get past the suspicion and the biting, she's actually quite a pleasant companion."

"Has she bitten you?" asked Gwen. "I heard about the boy who tried to tease her."

"She was angry. But she didn't break the skin."

"Sometimes I wonder if I am right about her," said Arthur. "She has great potential, but -"

"We don't know if it is for good or for evil," said Merlin somberly. "I think she could destroy this kingdom single-handedly if she really wanted to. She just doesn't know it yet."

"Or she could save us all," said Gwen. "She reminds me so much of Morgana."

"I know," said Arthur. "It sort of gives me the creeps. But it's just a coincidence. We can't judge her on that."


	10. Chapter 10

The storm had blown in in front of the real winter cold. The next morning, it began to snow. By the time Cottia had finished her hour of training with Percival, there was enough snow on the training field that their feet left tracks. She reached down and ran her fingers through the fluffy whiteness.

"It's wet," she said in surprise.

"It is snow," said Percival. "Frozen rain."

"I didn't think it would melt so fast," she said, holding a pinch of snow in the palm of her hand and watching as it melted. She dropped the water and rubbed her hand briskly on her jacket. "That's cold."

She walked back to the castle alone, as usual. The sky was a beautiful shade of grey, and the snowflakes that danced down from the clouds were fascinating to watch. If she stood looking up into the sky, she felt as if she was soaring up to meet the flakes. It made her head spin.

Just under the arch of the courtyard gate, someone bumped roughly into her. "Sorry," she said, stepping out of the way. She caught a brief glimpse of fiery hair and an intense gaze before the person turned sharply and hurried away.

0000

Merlin finished replacing the broken pane of glass in Cottia's room and stood back to look at his work. There had been little breakages all over the castle from the storm the night before. But this one was odd. All the glass had been blown out of the window onto the roof below. Usually most of it landed on the floor beneath the window in the room. He shrugged and turned to leave.

The candle beside her bed caught his eye. It was twisted and melted on top, as if it had been standing in a heavy draft and blazed up. The ceiling above it had faint scorch marks. Merlin went closer and peered at the candle. Something moved under his foot. It was a match. Matches were spilled all over the floor. Out of habit, he gathered them up and placed them neatly back in their box, which was also on the floor. He noticed with a faint sense of uneasiness that there were no burnt match ends among them.

0000

The next day, he took Cottia into the forest with him. It was still snowing, and the horses threw up lumps of snow as they trotted along. Cottia was fascinated by it.

"Everything looks so different," she said. "It's all outlines."

"It's pretty," Merlin agreed.

"I suppose it would be scary to be trapped in a snowstorm, though. The Fellowship was on Caradhras."

"How far have you gotten?" Merlin had been too busy to read to her lately, and she had been left to carry on on her own.

"I just reached Balin's tomb. It's so sad! I liked him. Why did he have to die? And by an ambush, too. It's not fair."

"Life usually isn't fair. People we love die and there is nothing we can do to stop it."

"Gandalf could have saved him if he had been there."

Merlin frowned. "But he couldn't have. Balin had to die. If he hadn't, maybe the Ring would have used him. Maybe the quest would have ended right there."

"Yeah, but Gandalf's a powerful wizard. He can do anything he likes."

"No, he can't. The more power a person has, and the more knowledge of the future, the more badly they can mess it up," he said sadly. "The best thing to do with magic is leave it alone."

"But why? How do you know, anyway?"

"I have seen the most horrible things done by a person who thought they were doing the right thing. They made so many mistakes."

"I hear shouting," said Cottia, looking around. "Do you hear it?"

"What? No." Merlin listened. "Yes. Come on. We'd better -"

An arrow came flying out of the trees and buried itself in the ground under Steady's hooves. He snorted in alarm and reared. Merlin, caught by surprise, lost his balance and fell off his back, landing heavily in the snow.

Cottia slid off Goldberry and ran to him. He was breathing, but limp and unresponsive. "Merlin, come on," she said desperately. The shouting was coming closer. She shook him hard. "Wake up! I think those are - are bad men. We have to leave."

Merlin lay still. She looked up and made a desperate snatch at Goldberry's trailing reins as the horse bolted, followed seconds later by Steady. "Come back!" she shouted furiously. "Cowards!"

Now she could hear branches snapping as the men came closer. She didn't even have her dagger. She looked around for a hiding place, but the snow had flattened all the undergrowth and there was nothing in sight but trees and snow, not even a dip in the ground. It was time for her to run. She looked down at Merlin. A snatch of melody drifted into her thoughts. 'But these battles aside, I think I taught you well.' How could she leave him? 'That we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run.'

"What's this then?" A group of grubby men appeared from between the trees. And yes, they were all armed. Wonderful. Cottia glared at them, still kneeling beside Merlin.

"Where are you from, boy?"

"Nowhere," she spat. The man looked surprised.

"A girl! Dressed in boy's clothes! What are you, then?"

"I'm his apprentice."

That got a laugh. More men had come up, and now there were about fifteen of them, spreading out to surround her.

"Get up, girl. We won't harm you." There was an unpleasant emphasis on 'you'.

"Why not?" She stayed where she was, shifting back a little so that she was leaning protectively over Merlin.

"We'll get a better price for a pretty girl than an ugly one," the man said, still sniggering.

"What about Me- my master?" Something warned her not to mention names.

"Looks like a weakling. We'll fix that." The man moved closer. He was wearing a jawbone on a chain dangling off his belt, she noticed, and some large and unpleasant-looking keys.

"If you come any closer I will do my best to kill you," she said levelly. The entire group of men laughed this time.

"How, sweetheart?"

"I don't know, but I will try." Curious, she thought dimly. She was so angry for some reason that she wasn't frightened anymore. Just let them touch Merlin and she would - she would do something painful and unpleasant. "I said get back!" she shouted at the man as he reached down to grab her arms.

The man was tossed backwards as if a wind had picked him up. He crashed into a tree and lay mostly still, his arms and legs twitching erratically. Cottia looked around wildly. There was no one in sight but the other bandits. Did I do that? she wondered. I must have. Let's try it again.

She whipped around and glared at a man who was trying to sneak up behind her, and he also went flying before she even had time to open her mouth. Right then, she thought, and then the rest of the men charged her. She sprang up and screamed.

That was something she had never done before in her life. Yes, she'd shouted at things sometimes, in the surprisingly rare moments when she really lost her temper and became seriously and thoroughly enraged, but she had never really screamed for any reason at all. If she was frightened, her natural reaction was to freeze and stare them down. But now, some strange, long-buried instinct told her that screaming was the thing to do at times like this. And it wasn't a frightened, shrill, helpless scream. It was more like a war cry or the howl of wild animals on a scent.

A ring of fire sprang up around her and Merlin, and through the roaring flames she glimpsed another ring around her attackers. She screamed again and they were sent flying, some landing stunned and bleeding and others landing and rolling, scrambling to their feet and slipping in their haste to run away. As suddenly as they had come, the fires went out. Cottia was alone with several very dead bandits and Merlin, unconscious beside her.

Now what? They couldn't stay here. The horses were gone. Cottia thought fast. They had passed a sort of gorge where a big stream ran through the forest about ten minutes before being attacked. They had had to scramble down a high bank to cross the ford. Maybe if she could get Merlin there, she could find a safe place to wait until he woke up. At the very least, she'd have water and it would be out of sight.

She lifted Merlin off the ground and held him somewhat upright, her hands locked around his chest beneath his arms. He was lighter than she had expected, but it was still almost beyond her strength to lift him. She began to drag him back the way they had come.

0000

"Sire!" Sir Percival was running towards Arthur down the long corridor.

"What is it, Percival?"

"Merlin and Cottia's horses have just come back riderless. Something must have happened."

"What? Where were they going?" Arthur began to stride towards the stables. Percival hurried beside him.

"The guards on the town gate say they rode out to the forest. I assume they were going to look for herbs. Cottia sent me a message saying she would be gone all day."

"Has anything been happening in the forest within the last few days?" Arthur's voice was clipped with anxiety.

"Not that I have heard, sire."

"We'd better go anyway. They might be in danger."

0000

Cottia sat on a rock and looked down at Merlin. Her shoulder and ribs were aching horribly. She had thought they were finally healing. But it was worth it, if it meant they were safe. She had carried Merlin all the way to the stream and found a little scooped-out place in the bank, rather like a shallow cave, where she could watch the ford without being seen. It was also out of the snow and sheltered from the wind.

He looks much younger like this, she thought. More relaxed. Less jumpy. She blinked hard. He was still alive. Don't get sappy about it. It's your job to look after him. There's nothing personal about it.

"I wish you'd wake up," she grumbled. "It's freezing out here."

There was a lot of wood lying around on the sandy banks of the stream, and there was a tiny dip in the ground that would make a perfect fireplace. Cottia sat and shivered for a long while before getting up and building a fire. She touched Merlin's hand gently. It was icy.

"I don't have any matches," she said out loud. "Do you?"

She looked through Merlin's pockets, muttering apologetically. He didn't have any, either, or even one of those annoying flint and steel things that she could never get to work.

"Sorry," she said. "It was a good idea, though." She sat and stared at the little pile of kindling. Her candle had lit itself during the storm. She must have done that. She closed her eyes and concentrated on that feeling, that desperate longing for light. There was a crackle and a faint whiff of smoke. A little flame was eating steadily through the kindling.

"Why can I do that?" she asked. "That's never happened before."

As the fire grew, she fed it with some larger sticks. Smoke began to rise and drift along the ground. Merlin stirred and coughed. He rolled over and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "What happened?" He looked around. "Where are we?"

"Back by the stream we crossed. It's the only place to hide that I could see."

"But why are we hiding? What about those noises?"

Cottia shrugged. "I, uh, managed to hide until they left and then came here."

"How many men were there?" Merlin stretched carefully. "Ow."

"You fell off your horse. About fifteen men, I think."

"Who were they?"

"I don't know. Probably slave traders," she added absently, remembering the keys and the remark the leader had made about getting a price for her.

"Really? How do you know?"

"The leader said - " She stopped.

"I thought you said they didn't see you."

She shifted nervously and poked at the fire. "They sort of did," she admitted. "But I . . . I talked them into letting us go." That wasn't really a lie, after all. She had told them she would try to kill them.

Merlin looked skeptical. "Really," he said flatly. "How did you get this fire going? I forgot to bring matches. You don't usually carry them."

"I - I - " Cottia floundered. I can set things on fire by thinking about it? I just killed four or five men by screaming at them? I don't know what is happening to me, but it is very weird and I don't like it at all, but somehow it also feels right?

"Cottia?" Merlin was looking at her worriedly across the fire. "What is it? What did they do to you?"

"Nothing. They didn't get the chance. It just sort of happened. I don't know how. I didn't want to kill them. I mean, I did, but I didn't think it would actually happen," she burst out. Merlin looked even more worried.

"Tell me exactly what happened," he said.

"The men came up, their leader tried to grab me, I shouted at him, and he hit his head on a tree and died, probably, although I didn't check. Should I have? And then another man tried it, and the same thing happened to him. And then all the men ran at me, and I screamed and there was a fire and the ones that weren't probably dead after that ran away." The words spilled out of her. "And during the last storm the candle in my room lighted itself when I thought about light and during the first storm the fire relighted when I couldn't see and just now I thought really hard about wanting a fire and it started on its own."

Merlin came around to sit beside her. He picked up a stick and handed it to her. "Light it," he said.

"What? How?"

"Show me what you did before."

Cottia looked doubtful, but she obediently took the stick and closed her eyes. Merlin watched as a frown of intense concentration grew between her eyebrows. Then her eyes sprang open. The iris glowed golden for an instant. A little tongue of flame sprang up on one end of the stick.

Merlin could not help putting his arm around her and giving her a little hug. "Congratulations," he said gently. "You have magic."

She stared up at him. "What does that mean? Are you sure?"

He took the stick from her and tossed it into the fire. "I'm sure. And I know because - well, watch." He looked at the fire. "Upastige draca," he whispered, reaching out a hand. The flames and sparks formed into the shape of a flying dragon, then dissipated. Cottia stared.

"Your eyes turned golden," she said.

Merlin nodded. "That always happens whenever anyone uses magic. Your eyes did that when you lit the fire just now."

Cottia blinked hard. "I didn't feel anything."

"It doesn't hurt. It just feels . . ."

"Peaceful," she said. "In control."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me that - hey, does this mean you're a wizard? Like Gandalf?" Cottia was looking at him with awe. He blushed.

"Technically, yes, I suppose," he said, running his fingers through his hair. People didn't usually look at him like that. "So are you," he pointed out helpfully.

"Wow. Or like Tiffany," she said happily. "Will I meet fairies now?"

"You might. I don't think you'll like them, though. They're usually rather vicious and self-centered."

She looked disappointed. "I thought you had to be old to be a wizard," she said thoughtfully. "Why aren't you old?"

Because I'm immortal? Merlin thought. Because no matter what I try, this is my permanent form? Oh yes, I can shift into other ones for a while, and that includes looking something like my real age, but I always come back to this, the age I was when I met Arthur and first learned of my destiny? Because I am thousands of years old and spent a lot of that time alone and you are the first person I have ever met with magic who has not immediately tried to kill me? And could you please stop looking at me like that? I'm not a hero. I've done more terrible things and caused more pain and destruction than you could possibly imagine. You're too innocent to stay with me. I have to let you go.

"I'm just a sort of wizard-in-training," he said, managing a smile. Cottia gave him a half-smile, but her eyes were still full of adoration.

"Can you teach me to do that?" she asked, pointing to the fire.

"Yes, and lots of other spells, too. But you will have to be careful. Magic is a dangerous gift. It will get you killed if you use it in public. It could get other people, innocent people, killed even if you manage to avoid being caught."

"Is that why you didn't say anything? Because it's banned? Why didn't you trust me? Does anyone else know?"

"No one else knows that I have magic. And I will never tell anyone that you do too," he added reassuringly.

"But if I keep lighting things on fire by accident -"

"Now that you understand what's happening, you'll be able to control it. Don't worry."

She nodded uneasily. "How long did it take you to find out you had magic?"

"I can't remember when I didn't know. My mother said I could move things around before I could talk. In this world, usually children born with magic are fairly obvious from a very young age. I think something in your world blocks it."

She nodded. "That makes sense. So it runs in families?"

"Yes, always."

"I think it is in my mother's family. They've always been odd."

Merlin got up. "It could. We should look in the records and see if we can trace your family. If your mother's ancestors were druids, it should be recorded somewhere."

"But I thought the whole kingdom was asleep for centuries."

"It was, but not all the people were here. Some of them emigrated to your world before that. Most of them were bands of druids who were fed up with the ban on magic. They've all kept very precise genealogies."

The sound of hooves echoed faintly down the banks of the stream. Merlin kicked sand over the fire as Cottia jumped up. They stood motionless under the overhanging bank.

"Why didn't you run when the men ambushed us?" he whispered after a few seconds. "You didn't know you'd be able to fight them off."

Cottia shrugged. "I was going to," she said. "But then -"

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"It sounds silly," she muttered.

"What?"

"I thought of that song, you know, the one about the king and the lionheart, and - and - well, you know, 'but these battles aside I think I taught you well'," she said reluctantly. Merlin smiled.

"Really? Thank you."

The horses came closer and splashed down into the shallow water of the ford. It was Arthur and Percival.

"Arthur!" Merlin called.

The King wheeled his horse around and came over to their hiding place. He slid off and ran towards them. "Merlin! We were worried about you! Your horses came back and we thought -" He suddenly threw his arms around his servant. Merlin patted him on the shoulder as he returned the hug, rather startled.

"I'm all right, Arthur," he said. "We were attacked by bandits, but Cottia managed to hide us and they've gone."

"Are you sure?" Percival asked, coming up. He looked worriedly at Cottia. She smiled at him. She liked him. He was honest and unexpectedly intelligent - and he was usefully strong.

"Yeah, they hunted around for a while and then got bored and left," she said.

Arthur finally let go of Merlin. "What happened to you?"

"I fell off my horse. It's nothing."

They rode back to Camelot. Arthur had been in too much of a hurry to bring any extra horses, so he took Merlin up behind him and Cottia rode with Percival.


	11. Chapter 11

Later that week, Gwen asked Cottia to be her maid. She accepted after thinking carefully about it. She still wasn't sure exactly what she wanted to do with her life, and she liked living in Camelot. And even though Guinevere was a queen and Cottia did not like the idea of queens, she liked Gwen as a person. She made her feel safe, like the mother she barely remembered.

Merlin tried to teach her how to sew, but it was a tedious process. Cottia's fingers were nimble enough at manipulating papers, but anything with string - like sewing or knitting or even arranging her own hair - was difficult for her. Unfortunately, she needed those skills.

"Why can't I just use magic?" she complained. "Can't I?"

"No," said Merlin wearily. "Look, I used to try to do all my chores by magic, but it never quite worked. There's always something you have to finish the usual way."

But other than that, she enjoyed the work. It wasn't hard to help Merlin keep Arthur and Gwen's rooms clean. Gwen did a lot of it herself. And other than that, she mostly just followed Gwen around when she was asked to. It was much the same as Merlin did for Arthur.

0000

One day, as she was sitting on a bench in the background of the council chamber, waiting for the council to finish and Gwen to do something else, Arthur called her over. That was unusual. Merlin quite often hovered around the long table and was included in the discussions, but she never had been. She put aside the Red Book, a little grumpily, because apparently Gandalf had just died and the Fellowship was now in a strange and wonderful land with golden trees (or perhaps it was golden-colored trees. She was a little hazy about that. The language difference between the words written in the story and the language she spoke made reading it a little like trying to read Beowulf in the original tongue. Some words were roughly the same, some were understandable after looking at them sideways for a while, and some were just indecipherable. She had a dictionary, but she always understood it better when Merlin read it to her. It slowed her down enough to think about what she was reading).

"Yes?" she said, not very graciously.

"We have received word of a planned raid on the Other Side to bring out some people like you," said the King, grinning. He'd noticed the book. "Do you want them to try to contact your parents and bring them too, if they want to come?"

Cottia's eyes lit up, and she forgot all about the book. "Can they?" she breathed.

"They can."

"Yes, please. Oh, yes. Can I go with them?"

Arthur looked surprised. "I think you'd be more useful here," he said kindly. Cottia pouted.

"Why?"

"You're on a wanted list on the Other Side. You'd attract too much attention."

"Really?" She considered this news. "Wow." She sighed. "I suppose I'd better stay here, then."

"The expedition will be leaving in a few weeks. We'll hear the results within a month or so." Arthur picked up a pen. "I need some information about them. What are their names?"

"My father's name is Jonas Hubert Parker. My mother is Vivie Helen Parker."

"Vivie?" said Arthur, hesitating over spelling.

"V-i-v-i-e," she spelled. "It's a family nickname for Vivian," she added helpfully. "There's lots of people in her family named that."

"And where are they?"

Cottia hesitated. "I don't really know," she said miserably. "They're lab scientists for the food corporation, so they work out in the Asian Plains zone. But I don't know where, and that zone covers two continents."

"Well, they know how to access the records," Arthur said comfortingly. "They'll find them."

0000

"So why aren't you called Vivian?" Merlin asked her, only half-serious, when they were back in his chambers at the end of the day. Cottia was still hyper.

"It skips generations," she explained happily. "I don't know why. It always has. The girls alternate naming the second sister Vivian and Morgan, and the boys alternate between Gordon and Morgan. It gets confusing."

"Why weren't you given a family name, then? Shouldn't you have been named Morgan?"

"I was the first child. It's always the second ones that get the old names. I'm glad I was first. It'd be so boring to be stuck with a name just because everyone has it."

"Do you have brothers and sisters?" Merlin was startled. He'd never heard her refer to any.

"I might. I wouldn't know," she answered carelessly. "I hope not."

"Oh."

"I don't need any," she went on. "They'd be little kids, and they'd just get in the way." She chuckled. "I'd like to see my father's face when the Clever Ones come to save him. He was always very rule-observant. I remember that the most. I think my mother will be happy, though. She was the one who made sure I could go outside."

"How old were you the last time you saw them?"

"Five. I started preschool then, and they moved away as soon as I moved out. Then when I started regular school they learned how good I was with the portal, and there was a video conference with me and them and the teachers and some company scouts. They agreed to train me as a Monitor then." The angry tones in which she usually spoke of her old life were gone. She looked proud. "They were happy about that. And they sent me a message and pictures every three months after that, until I went into the special school, because that wasn't allowed."

"You'll have a lot to catch up on with them, then," said Merlin. She hasn't seen them in person since she was a baby, he thought. Yikes. She doesn't really know them, just the dream of them she's built for herself. This is going to be hard for all of them. "That can be hard sometimes," he added carefully. Best to start planting the idea that it may not be all flowers and rainbows when she meets them.

"Why should it be?"

"Well, when you haven't been around your parents for a while, it takes a lot of catching up," he said slowly. "For instance, I never met my father until I was about your age. We didn't get on too well at first. He didn't even know I existed."

"What happened?"

"We had to talk. Eventually it all got sorted out, and we were friends. And the next day he died," he added involuntarily. He looked at the little carved white wooden dragon high up on one of the shelves. He'd taken it everywhere, wherever he went, on his journeys while Camelot slept.

"Oh," she said, her sparkling mood dampened. "That's too bad."

"It was," Merlin agreed. "He was a good man, and I can't blame him for being bitter. I just wish I'd been able to learn more from him."

She was quiet for the rest of the evening.

0000

There was a tournament starting the next day, a big one. There had been a few practice meets, but this time, knights from all over the kingdom and even some from other kingdoms were entering. Cottia didn't care much for it. It was too crowded, and too loud. If the duels and jousts could have been done in silence, she would probably have been fascinated, but as it was, the crashing of metal and the roar of the crowd grated on her ears.

The King was in the tournament, of course, so the Queen sat alone in the royal box and handled all the ceremonies. Cottia was with her, but she managed to lurk in the corners, where the noise was not quite so bad and she could see but not be seen as easily.

Cottia stared out dreamily across the sandy arena. Tents for the knights had been set up by the gate into the ring. She could just see Merlin leading the King's horse across the open space. It would be much more interesting to be behind the scenes.

"Cottia." Gwen was calling her. She went forward to the Queen's side. "Would you mind going back to my rooms and fetching my heavier cloak? It's getting cold out here. And you might want yours, too," she added, smiling.

"Yes," said Cottia, and hurried out, happy to be away from the noise. She didn't have the courage to tell the Queen that she had worked out how to wear her shirt and breeches under her dress.

She slipped into an alleyway when she reached the first buildings. The arena was set in a clear space under the castle walls, but it was inside the town. Usually, the alleys were congested with carts and people to keep the main roads clear, but today, they were deserted. Everyone was watching the tournament, and it was quicker to cut through the alleys.

Something dark and suffocating dropped over her head as she came around a corner, and someone grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back as she kicked and tried to shake the hood off. She was flung back roughly against the side of a building.

"Hello, freak," said a smug voice. "Can't bite me this time." There was a chorus of giggles. Giggles? That was odd. Cottia closed her eyes and tried to use her other senses. That was something she had always been good at. Smells in particular always jogged her memory.

"Aren't you special," said another voice, like the bullying boy's but female. "Nice dress. Of course, you probably don't use it much."

The hood was taken off. She was surrounded by a crowd of girls, with a few boys in the mix. Two of them were holding her. She faintly recognized a few of the girls. They worked in the palace kitchens, though they spent as much time as possible hanging around with boys outside in the street. And there was the boy whom she had bitten that day in the stables, and with him a girl with violent red hair and who resembled him so closely that they had to be related.

"Now what?" Cottia said exasperatedly. "I'm on an errand."

"For the King, I suppose," said an amateur jester in the crowd.

"For the Queen, actually."

The boy - what was his name? Nicholas? - slapped her hard across the face. She had expected that, and moved her head slightly at the last second so that his hand met nothing but air. He staggered. The watchers laughed.

"Shut up," said the girl, glaring at them. They fell silent. She's the brains, Cottia thought.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What's your problem with me?"

"I'm Amelia. You're a stupid Outsider."

"We don't like Outsiders," said one of the few boys ponderously.

"So what does that make you? A close-minded bigot?"

She saw the tall girl's eyes glitter and knew she had said the wrong thing.

0000

"Have you seen Cottia?" Gwen asked Merlin as Arthur sat down beside her. He had won his joust and was going to be a spectator for the rest of the day.

"No. Where did she go?"

"I asked her to fetch me a cloak, but that must have been half an hour ago."

Merlin frowned. "It wouldn't take her that long. Shall I go look for her?"

It was Arthur who answered. "Yes, I won't need you. And - oh, never mind."

The cheers of the crowd resonated behind Merlin as he hurried towards the castle. He didn't know how Arthur could sit and watch the fighting so calmly. Each noise filled Merlin's mind with the memories of men hacking and shoving in the dark, their blood running down the rocks as they struggled desperately to defend the pass of Camlann. He shivered. He could still see Mordred lying there on the ground, fallen beside Arthur. Poor Mordred. He had been just as much a pawn as Merlin had been, except he had been controlled by Morgana.

Merlin shook his head hard. It was no use regretting the past. Arthur had returned, hadn't he? Just like Kilgarrah had promised.

Merlin!

The call echoed in his mind. It was Cottia. She sounded frightened.

What is it? Where are you? he answered.

There was no response. He began to run up the broad street towards the entrance to the courtyard. Halfway there, he saw a flicker of movement in an alley, and went to investigate. He saw shadows darting away from him as he dodged around corners in the twisting alleys. At last he came to a dead end. There was no one there. He glared irritably at the blank walls and began to retrace his steps. He almost fell over something lying in the street. It was Cottia.

Her dress was torn and covered in mud, and her hands had been rather clumsily tied together with some cheap rope. He tore the knots free and rolled her over, cradling her head in his lap. She had scratches on her cheeks and neck and blood was smeared over her face from a nasty-looking cut on her forehead just below her hair. One side of her face was already swelling. It looked as though someone had hit her very hard.

Merlin looked around for any sign of her attackers, but there was no one, and no sign that anyone had been there. But he remembered all the little figures running away. That wasn't important now, though. He picked Cottia up gently and started towards the castle.

He met Percival as he was crossing the courtyard. He came running when he saw them.

"What happened to her?" he asked, gently touching the bruise on the side of her face. "I thought she was waiting on the Queen."

"She was. Someone attacked her in the town while she was running an errand."

Percival accompanied him all the way up to his rooms in the tower, opening the doors for him. Merlin set Cottia down on the table and bent over her. Percival watched anxiously.

"It's just bruises apart from this cut," Merlin muttered. "This looks like a pocketknife, not a real weapon." He looked up and saw the knight hovering by the door.

"Will she be all right?" There was an unmistakable anxiety in Percival's question.

"She'll be fine."

He beamed in relief. "Shall I go tell Gwen?"

Merlin had forgotten all about that. "Yes, if you wouldn't mind. And tell Arthur I won't be coming back for a while."

Percival nodded and left. Merlin began to clean the cut on the girl's head.

0000

Cottia opened her eyes. She had a headache. Really, she had an everythingache. But it seemed like everything was still there.

"Stay still." It was Merlin. She shut her eyes again as he touched her cheek. It was numb, for some reason. She could sense the heat of his hand, but she couldn't feel anything. It was hard to open that eye, too.

"Who attacked you?"

She managed a shrug. "That boy I bit and his friends," she murmured. "I think it was his sister. Can't remember her name."

"Does anything hurt?"

"Everything hurts, idiot."

"Does anything really hurt?" Merlin tried. "Does anything feel broken?"

"No."

"Good."

"I was supposed to get something," was her next observation.

"Yes, I know. Don't worry about it."

Cottia fell asleep again. Merlin got up carefully from where he had been sitting on the side of her bed and stood looking down at her. It was clever of her to wear her normal clothes under the dress she had to wear while being Gwen's maid. That had probably saved her some serious scrapes and extra bruises.

0000

Arthur came to see her after the tournament had ended for the day. Gwen had already come and gone. Cottia was still asleep.

"I gave her a lot of the sleeping draft," Merlin said as Arthur looked at her bruises.

"Someone was deliberately waiting for her?"

"Looks like it. Everyone in town except for the gate guards and sick people should have been at the arena, watching. It was perfect timing, when you think about it."

Arthur nodded grimly. "Oh yes. No witnesses and no way of proving you weren't just lost in the crowd."

Merlin looked at him curiously. "What?"

"Look at her, Merlin. This wasn't a casual kid fight. Someone hated her."

"She said Nicholas from the battle school was the leader, with his sister."

Arthur grimaced. "Them again?"

"You know about them?"

"Their father is one of my best knights. Not a member of the Round Table, but loyal enough to make up for his lack of skill. His children don't take after him, and he can't control them. The boy's given the instructors fits, and the girl is something of a street terror among her peers."

"But why would they attack her?"

"She bit Nicholas," Arthur said thoughtfully.

"Yes, but he started it," Merlin argued. "Percival was there and saw the whole thing."

"Yes, I know."

The floor creaked softly behind them. Gwen was standing in the doorway. "Sorry, I did knock."

Merlin beckoned her in and she came to stand by Arthur's side. "She's still the same?"

"Yes. At least she hasn't woken up. I think she'll recover quickly. She healed well from her leg wound, remember."

"We were trying to think of a reason why Sir Roderick's children would attack her," said Arthur. Gwen seemed startled.

"Was it them? Arthur, you really should do something about those brats."

"I know, I know. But he's been such a good knight. I hate to humiliate him by telling the kingdom he can't control his own son and daughter."

"Sometimes you have to be unkind to keep your people safe! They'll go after her again. I know they will," she added as an expression of disbelief crossed Arthur's face. "I know their world and you don't. The boy's probably angry that he was outsmarted by a girl - and in front of his classmates - and the girl is probably jealous of her. I remember her. She wanted to be an upper servant here. She lost the job in two months for bullying the other servants. She thought that she was special because she's the daughter of a knighted commoner."

"What can we do to keep Cottia safe?" Merlin asked.

"I'll talk to Sir Roderick," Arthur said sadly, and left. Gwen followed him, only pausing to say to Merlin, "Do you think it would help or hurt to make it more public that Cottia is my servant now, not just one of the palace staff?"

"I don't know. Sometimes people go after you because of who you serve," said Merlin, speaking from long experience. Gwen met his eyes.

"I know. I've never forgotten the time I was captured and had to pretend I was a lady. But other times I got places I would never have been allowed if people hadn't known I was her maid. I think it would help."

"Because they know she'll be missed and you'll be angry? Yes, maybe it would be best. How will you spread the word?"

Gwen smiled. "I'll order a new dress for her from the tailor in the town, to start with. A more formal one for court days. She'll need one anyway. And when she is recovered, I'll take her into the town with me and we'll go around the market, complete with escort."

It sounded like a good plan, Merlin admitted to himself when she had gone. He just hoped it would work. He looked down at the still little figure on the bed, feeling a curious emotion he could not quite identify.

Pride. That was it. He was proud of his apprentice. She had been attacked and she had resisted her instinctive reaction to use magic to defend herself. She had let herself be hurt rather than reveal her secret. She had thought before acting. He knew how it felt to be unarmed and facing capture and pain and knowing that one word and a little thought could leave his attackers wondering what day it was and whether this was the world of the living or the dead. He knew what a constant temptation that was. He was so very proud of her for not fighting back.

He said as much the next day, when she was awake and alert enough to come sit on the couch. She looked sheepish.

"I wanted to fling them all away, but at the last second I remembered what you said about innocent people being blamed for my magic, so I didn't do anything."

"I know that's hard."

"I didn't really feel most of it. I'm used to being beaten up, anyway. It happened all the time in school. It wasn't usually as bad as this, though." She was silent. Talking hurt.

"Do you want me to read to you?" Merlin asked after a long pause. Her half-smile appeared and she wordlessly produced the Red Book from seemingly nowhere and handed it to him, pointing to the page where she had stopped.

He read steadily on as the Fellowship met Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, and wandered the paths of Cerin Amroth and Caras Galadhon, and Frodo and Sam were taken to see the Mirror of Galadriel. Cottia liked that part, and when he reached the end of the chapter and the Lady refused Frodo's offer to give her the Ring, she made him go back and read it again.

"She's my favorite character," she said as he finished it for the second time. "She has an elf-ring?"

"Yes, Nenya. It gives her the ability to see a little way into the future using her natural powers. She is a remarkable person - strong and merciful at the same time. Not many kings or queens have been successful at combining justice and mercy."

"But if justice is really just, wouldn't it also be merciful by nature?"

"It certainly should be," Merlin answered after a startled pause for thought.

"I like Galadriel. I like Lothlorien, too. I want to go there."

"Maybe you will someday."

"I'd like to be able to see the future," Cottia went on happily, her headache forgotten. "It would be so helpful. Do the druids here have a mirror, too?"

Merlin thought of his own experiences with knowing the future and felt the familiar tide of grief and guilt rise up in him. "Foreknowledge is a very unhappy thing to have. Remember what she said? 'The Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their path to prevent them. The Mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds.' It tells you what might happen, not always what will, and realizing which is which is hard and dangerous. The crystals are just the same."

"What crystals?"

Merlin wished he hadn't said anything, but she would learn about them sooner or later. It was best her knowledge of them came from someone who had actually used them instead of from a dreamer who didn't have the power to. "It's called the Crystal Cave. It's in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The legend is that that was where the first children of magic discovered their powers. I don't know if that is true or not, but it is a place where magic is strong."

"Have you ever seen the future?"

"Oh yes," Merlin said, a bitter smile she did not understand crossing his face. "I've seen the future in the Crystal Cave. It's supposed to be a gift, but really it's more like a curse."

She was a little daunted, but the sparkle was still in her eyes. "What does it look like? Is it pretty?"

"I suppose so. It's a big cave with crystals hanging from the ceiling and walls and sprouting out of the floor. They reflect all the colors of light like prisms. But the visions in them usually get in the way after a few minutes. They make you feel awfully sick," he added with feeling.

"I'd like to see it," she said longingly. "It sounds a bit like Lorien."

"I'll take you there someday, when you're stronger."

"Really?"

Merlin looked at her intently. "I promise." She stared back at him. Suddenly she snuggled down against his side and gave a contented little sigh.

"I feel safe with you. I've never felt safe with anyone else before. Just with myself, and not very often."

Why had he just promised to take her to the Crystal Cave? No one but the most powerful sorcerers ever went there. Oh well. It couldn't do her much harm if he was there to guide her, and maybe it would help her grow up. For all her hard exterior, she still had the mind of a child. He turned the page and began to read the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

She did heal quickly, but not quickly enough to join the next patrol. They left exactly a week later. Cottia stayed behind with the Queen.

Guinevere decided to go walk around the lower town. Cottia accompanied her, along with a few guards who trailed behind them looking slightly bored and rather stuffed. The streets were crowded, and loud. Cottia stayed close behind the Queen as she picked her way through the crush. She seemed to know the lower town very well.

Sophie waved at her from the entrance of an alley as she passed, and looked impressed. Cottia shrugged and smiled sheepishly. It was her job. She couldn't help that it happened to involve wandering around in the company of the Queen while wearing a dress that most of the girls there would kill for. It wasn't like it was fancy, but it was made of very nice fabric and cut so that it looked well on her.

Gwen stopped at a stall and began to chat with the woman running it. Cottia huddled behind her, trying to keep out of the way of the traffic. The soldiers had taken up stations a little distance away.

"So you won this time, freak, but it isn't over yet," hissed a voice behind her, barely more than a breath. Cottia turned around sharply, but there was no one there. A big knot of people had just passed, and it was useless looking for the speaker in that crowd. She hadn't even been able to tell what gender it was.

"How do you know so many people?" she asked the Queen later, when they were back in the castle.

"I used to live in the lower town. I had lots of friends, and I didn't lose touch with them just because I got married," said Gwen, looking surprised.

"You lived in the town? What for?"

"I didn't want to have a room here. I liked the walk, and anyway, I had to keep house for my father until he died. My mother died when I was a kid."

"But -" Cottia had the feeling that she had missed something. "Like, didn't you have servants to do that?"

"Of course not!"

"But you're the Queen. So you must have been rich enough to -"

"Oh!" Gwen smiled. "Didn't anyone tell you? I was the Lady Morgana's maid. I'm not from a noble family."

Cottia blinked. "What?"

"I fell in love with Arthur, and he fell in love with me. We never expected anything to come of it, but then his father died and he was crowned king and his uncle and Morgana betrayed him, and well, things just worked out well. I was surprised. No one made much of a fuss. We'd expected a war."

"What, just because you used to be a maid?"

"Nobles don't marry commoners. For one thing, it disrupts society, and for another, usually commoners don't have the education to fill an administrative role. I was lucky. My mother was a maid in Sir Leon's household and was quite educated, and she passed a lot on to me. And ironically, Morgana used to talk to me all the time about how to be a lady and how to manage a kingdom. So I had the rudimentary knowledge that I need to be queen. But it's been hard."

"That's cool."

Gwen looked curiously at Cottia. "Come this way," she said, taking her hand and leading her down a darker corridor. They went through many dusty rooms and hallways before reaching a pair of imposing double doors. Gwen shoved hard at one of them. It creaked open. "We don't use this part of the castle much anymore," she said apologetically. "But this is the portrait gallery."

It was a long room, about three times the width of a corridor, lined on both sides with big tapestries and paintings. Most were of people dressed in hideous and elaborate costumes. A few were groups of people, or battles. Gwen lifted a lantern off a big table and lit it from the torch outside the door. She led the way past the shadowed portraits. The floor squeaked beneath their tread.

"That's Arthur when he was a boy," she said, pausing momentarily in front of a smaller canvas. The face that looked out at them was determined and cheerful. He was in full battle gear. "He said that was painted when he was twelve."

They went on. Cottia couldn't help noticing that Gwen's floor-length dress was sweeping up little piles of dust. The Queen halted so suddenly that she nearly ran into her.

"And this was Morgana," Gwen said quietly. Cottia looked up.

The girl had been painted on the castle battlements, with the forest and the fields behind her. She was wearing a much simpler dress than the other, older, portraits. It was just a green dress with minimal embroidery and long flowing sleeves. There was one strand of emeralds clasped around her throat. She looked down at them with full, narrowed green eyes under straight black brows. Cottia was reminded faintly of a cat on the prowl. Her hair was pure black in the same way that Merlin's was, and braided back neatly. She looked proud and dignified and very sure of herself. Her face gave no hint of what she was thinking. Cottia stared. It was like looking into a mirror. A mirror that turned grey eyes into green and blond hair into black.

"She was a good person, and a kind mistress," Gwen said quietly. "I still miss her sometimes, as she was before she became bitter. She was about your age when this was painted, I think."

"Did she die?"

"Yes, at the battle of Camlann. I hardly knew her then. She was so thin and unhappy, even in death. Poor girl."

Cottia managed to tear her wide grey eyes away from the glittering green ones. She looked at the next painting over. "Who's that?"

"That's Uther. Arthur's father. He wasn't a very nice man."

"He looks stubborn," Cottia decided. "And worried."

"Worried? I wouldn't say that. He was very decisive. Although - yes, I suppose he did have a lot to worry about. A lot of things to regret." The sadness that had been in Gwen's voice as she spoke of Morgana was completely absent as she considered Uther. "He had my father killed," she added.

"Why?"

"He thought that my father was conspiring with sorcerers. He wasn't. He'd been tricked into doing some work for one. But Uther didn't care, so he was hunted down."

"What did your father do?"

"He just did a little bit of metalwork for someone who paid him well. He was the best blacksmith in the town." Gwen sighed.

"Well, I suppose you have your revenge for that," said Cottia.

Gwen looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Cottia shrugged. "You married his son. You have his power and all his possessions. I call that a good revenge."

"That wasn't why I married Arthur! I never even thought of it."

"It's still ironic. Isn't it?"

Gwen thought. "I suppose it is. It's typical, though. He brought his own fate on himself, by being so unreasonable to people with magic. He was killed by a sorcerer, and I don't blame him one bit. Morgana did the same thing. She'd seen the future, and that I was going to be queen, and she tried so hard to break me and Arthur up, and then to kill me, that she actually drew us closer together."

0000

That gave Cottia something to think about. Maybe knowing the future really was dangerous. She wished that Merlin was there. She wanted to talk to him about the dream she'd had about the druid camp and the person waiting there for her. Also, it was lonely all by herself in the tower. She looked up from staring unseeingly at the pages of the Red Book, turning her head so that she could see the rest of the room. No one else was there. At one time, that would have been bliss. Now she felt only a hole.

Her duties as the Queen's maid weren't very strenuous. Gwen didn't like to be fussed over. Mostly, she just wanted a companion. Cottia sat in the background while she talked with her council in the conference room, and accompanied her on walks around the castle and town in the afternoon. But this afternoon a torrent of slushy ice was pouring down, and they hadn't gone out.

All this spare time meant that Cottia had lots of time to read. She'd finished the first volume of the second story in the Red Book, and had just finished the first chapter of the second. So the man had given into the temptation of the Ring. That was rather stupid of him, wasn't it? Shortsighted and greedy. Why hadn't he trusted the advice of Gandalf and of the elves? They were thousands of years old and had seen many evils defeated. Boromir hadn't even given them a chance. Cottia was fuming. What an idiot.

There was a soft knock on the door. She sprang off the couch and was standing beside it before she even realized that she had moved. Calm down. Calm down. It can't be him. He can't be back yet, and anyway, he wouldn't knock, would he? She opened the door. It was Sophie.

"Had some stuff to deliver in the kitchen and thought I might as well drop in," she said cheerfully. She looked around. "Good grief, it's like a lab in here. The Doctor would love it."

"I was thinking about coming to visit, but it's awfully wet," said Cottia, looking dubiously at her friend's dripping cloak.

"You've gone all soft now that you have a posh job?" said Sophie teasingly. The smile abruptly left her face. "You might want to be careful about wandering around the town, you know."

"Why? What have I done?"

"Um, you exist. That's about enough for some people." Sophie dropped negligently into a chair by the table after hanging her cloak over it. "We get it too, you know. Everyone who's come through does. It's a stupid prejudice, really, because we're actually less competent than people who are born here. At least they understand the culture and customs and things instinctively. But some of them don't like us coming here. They say we take away their jobs and bring soldiers after us." She rested her chin on her hands.

"That's sort of true," Cottia protested. "But why do they feel threatened? There's a lot less of us than there are of them. And Arthur likes having us."

Sophie pointed at her. "That's why. You're on first-name terms with the King now?"

Cottia blushed. That was a rare occurrence for her. "He asked me to!" she protested. "He said all the bowing and adoration gives him the creeps."

"So is the Doctor. So is Mum. So are a lot of us who have come from the Other Side, and we had nothing then but our clothes and the things in our pockets. No money. No status. We are penniless and homeless when we come here, but just because we have lived in another world we are automatically friends of the rulers of this land. How many of the people born here are on those terms with them, do you think?"

"He's very popular. Gwen grew up with half the women in the lower town, apparently. I don't understand. Why does it matter who gets to see them every day and who doesn't? They wouldn't turn anyone away if they needed help."

"It's all about social stuff," said Sophie patiently. "Hierarchies. Cliques. The buddy network."

Cottia rolled her eyes.

"Listen, I'm trying to warn you! I know that the King is trying to make the class barriers a little less suffocating. He thinks that everyone with abilities should be able to use them for the benefit of all. I'm totally behind that. But it's creating some unpleasant side effects."

"Like what?"

"Like the children of common-born knights not being sure where they fit in. Their fathers were farmers or common soldiers who showed themselves capable of being skilled fighters, and suddenly they don't know how to act. Do they play in the street with the other kids whose parents are still just farmers, or do they hang around the castle with the children of nobles? They're caught between worlds just like we are, and when they see someone like you landing here practically dead and within four months apprenticed to the King's personal servant and following the Queen around, they get mad. You see, that's a job they could do, and it wouldn't be undignified to them." Sophie stopped and glared at Cottia. "And on top of it, you have to go and look . . . not like a peasant. You don't look like your ancestors spent all day cutting wood and wrestling with pigs. You look like they spent their days writing poetry and learning embroidery or whatever that thing people do to curtains is."

"I can't help that!" Cottia protested. "What exactly are you trying to warn me about?"

Sophie waved her hands angrily but vaguely. "There's a mob of kids about our age who have it in for anyone from the Other Side, and especially ones who work in the palace. It doesn't help that you bit the brother of one of the ringleaders. She's nasty."

"Is her name Amelia?"

"Yes."

"We've met."

"That'll be where you got that scar, then," Sophie said, leaning forward and examining the scar still just barely visible on Cottia's forehead. "She always carries a knife. She claims to have magic, too. I don't know if it's true. People don't talk about it if they have it. They're too fond of their heads."

"She has magic? She doesn't look the type."

"It's not all weird old people with beards and black robes, you know." Sophie gave her a strange look. "It's only a rumor, anyway. But don't walk around the town alone if you can possible help it. Don't go off the main streets, even if you aren't alone."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Promise me," Sophie insisted. Cottia glowered and, with bad grace, gave in.

0000

It was really raining hard. The sky was so dark that it seemed like midnight had come six hours early. Cottia was used to the soft friendly grey of the snow clouds by now. This was different. The slushy ice crystals rattled against the windows. She shivered and moved away from them, curling up in Merlin's place on the couch and drawing the blanket close around her shoulders. It felt weird to be sitting there.

Sophie had run for home when the storm had started in earnest. Cottia was left alone in the dark room to ponder her warning. Why did people hate each other so much when they didn't even know them? Even Arthur and Gwen were turning out to be totally different than she had expected, now that she had given them a chance. Why did everyone always hate her in the end?

She shook her head defiantly. "It's not like that anymore," she said firmly. "Sophie's here. And so is Merlin. You can trust them. You know you can."

Ice tinkled against the glass. Forks of lightning flashed across the sky. The patrol had been supposed to be in by sundown. Now it had to be well into the night, although who could tell when the clouds blotted out the light? Cottia could not stay still. She paced around the room until she could not walk any more. Then she looked at the door to her room. She really needed to get some sleep.

She wandered into Merlin's room, still wrapped in the blanket from the couch, flopped down and buried her nose in the blankets, and fell asleep.

0000

The fire in the stove had burned down to coals. Merlin stood over it, trying to thaw out his fingers. His jacket and cloak were in the center of a puddle on the floor. The heat poured around him, making his cold skin tingle. It had been a horrible night. He yawned. Cottia hadn't made too much of a mess, he noticed. Everything was almost exactly the same as it had been when he had left it.

He wondered whether to wake her up and tell her that he was back, and decided against it. What was the point? She'd be sound asleep and she'd notice in the morning anyway. He went into his room, carrying a candle, and saw her curled up like a kitten in the middle of his bed. She had a blanket clutched around herself. He stared.

"I'm back," he said, touching her shoulder. She had been crying about something. Her eyes were still slightly pink. That was odd. She didn't cry. "Hey. Cottia."

She stirred and grumbled, eventually opening her eyes. She went very still, gazing up at him fixedly. "Merlin?"

"Yes?"

She sat up. The blanket tumbled from her shoulders as she grabbed at him, nearly making him collapse onto the bed beside her. He managed to keep his balance, and hugged her. "It's all right," he said vaguely, aware that she was worried but not sure what about.

She shoved him away and scowled at him. "Why are you so late?"

"The weather is awful." He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to unbuckle his boots. His fingers had been too numb to do it before. "We had to stop and rest. The horses couldn't keep going through the snow. I hope you weren't too worried."

"I wasn't worried," she lied.

"Good. What did you have for dinner?"

Cottia's face went blank. She'd forgotten about it. "Uh -"

"Never mind. I'm starving."

0000

A month went by. There was no word from the expedition from the Other Side. Arthur tried to reassure Cottia. These missions were tricky, he said. Sometimes they could not get in as quickly as they thought they could, or could not find the people. Just give them time. It's not unusual for them to come back late.

Another month went by. A new year began. The solstice passed and the days began to grow longer. Cottia was now part of the family, an accepted member of the royal household. The knights treated her like a little sister, teasing her good-naturedly and trusting her to be discreet when they held councils or talked around campfires.

Her training in both weapons and magic was progressing well. She had a natural talent for swordfighting. Percival and Leon were both quite impressed. They let her train with the dagger they had given her now, and she wore the armor that Merlin had found for her. It fitted her perfectly.

The training in magic was progressing even faster. She had a good memory and could repeat almost anything after being shown it only once. What worried Merlin was that she did not like to use verbal spells. He carefully explained to her that the words themselves had no power, merely acting as a focusing aid for the mind and a signal to other people of what you were doing (and were therefore vital), but she still refused to memorize them.

"If I know how it feels, I can do it," she argued. "I don't need all these weird words. I can't feel through them."

"Then what can you use to feel?" Merlin asked, exasperated. She put her head on one side and considered.

"Anything," she said simply. Her eyes glowed and a red butterfly fluttered out of her cupped hands.

"Then what did you use for that?"

She gave a brief smile. "Do No Wrong."

"That's . . . that's not how magic is supposed to work," he said lamely. "You can't just use random bits of things other people . . . have . . . written down . . ." He stopped as she raised an interrogative eyebrow. "All right, all right. But how exactly does that song equal 'red butterfly' to you?"

"It's the last line. 'Summer sun protects us, everything affects us, to the outside light it's paradise', you know? Doesn't that sound like a butterfly?"

Merlin squinted. "Not really."

"It works for me. It's the right feeling. I don't know why it was red. That just seemed . . . appropriate."

"Well, I suppose if it works, you can keep trying it," he gave in. "But you must try to learn some basic spells. What if you have to work with someone else? They won't know what you're planning."

To be honest, he was constantly amazed at how powerful she was turning out to be. She seemed to have a strong connection to the feel of the world around her, a quality that was essential for true sorcerers. They were called that for a reason: because they were a source of the mysterious force that everyone else had called magic because they did not understand it. For a select and special few, there was nothing strange about knowing that the world around you could change shape at your bidding. Merlin was one of those people. It seemed that Cottia was too. Most people with magic had to study hard and learn to focus their minds in order to do even simple tasks with their minds instead of their bodies. She did not. Sometimes her intensity frightened him.

He tried to convince her that she did not need to study in every free moment. She needed friends. It was true that about once every week, she would spend a few hours with Sophie and sometimes with her older sister Jenny (who was rumored to be the only person in the town who could climb the massive outer walls with nothing but her bare hands and feet), but he was nebulously worried that she seemed to have problems getting on with anyone else. And all the time Alice's warning echoed in his mind. On one hand, Cottia seemed completely uninterested in him, but on the other, she was always trailing after him. He was worried. Apart from any considerations of her feelings, he was becoming fond of her. Just like how he was fond of Gwen, he told himself. She was a good friend who had a practical and educated mind. He could talk to her. She was dependable. And she could certainly come up with a good plan to rescue him from a host of unpredictable dangers if the need ever arose.

The knowledge that soon he would have to force her to leave him burned in the back of his mind. It wasn't safe for her to stay with him for too long. He had seen too much, done too many terrible things in the name of destiny. He wasn't qualified anymore to teach someone like her what was right and what was wrong. He barely understood it for himself now. Arthur had to be kept safe at all costs. Whatever the means, Albion had to be formed.


	13. Chapter 13

It was another month before the expedition to the Other Side sent word to the King that their mission was complete. Along with the letter, they also sent a sealed wooden box, about four inches square. A label was attached to it, bearing the name 'Naira Hallie'. It was written by a computer, and looked strangely out of place in Camelot.

Arthur delivered it to her personally. To his relief, Merlin was also at home, sitting at the long table and scribbling in a book. He did not want her to be alone when she opened the box. He didn't know what was in it, but he'd read the letter from the expedition.

She took it from him, a mixture of delight and confusion and a tinge of fear all reflected on her face. "Is this it? Couldn't they come this time?"

"No," Arthur said. It was the truth, after all. He saw Merlin looking at him sharply, and gave him a look that said, help, things are going to be bad.

Cottia was yanking at the string that wrapped the box. She'd already broken the wax seal. Merlin gently took it from her hands and cut the string with a handy knife. He placed the box on the table. Arthur retreated to the corner by the door and tried to look like a piece of furniture. He wanted to leave, but felt vaguely that that would be disloyal to both of them. Mostly to Merlin. As he had pointed out in several occasions, he had to live with the girl.

Cottia sat down and opened the box. Her face went completely blank. She picked out an envelope, tore it open, and read the single sheet enclosed. When she had finished, she laid it down on the table and stared sightlessly ahead. Merlin looked at her, to Arthur (who made a face and then tried even harder to look like a broom with clothes on), and then reached out a hand towards the letter. Cottia did not move.

"May I see it?" he asked. She gave a tiny nod. He could see thoughts flickering behind her eyes, but there was no clue as to what they were.

" 'Naira,' the letter began abruptly. " 'As you should have known, I will not listen to this treason and 'run away', as you somewhat melodramatically put it in your crude notice. I am deeply disappointed in you. I did not pay for an expensive education to have you throw it away. I must take a little of the blame for your loss on myself, since I see now that you were clearly mentally incapable of handling the responsibility of becoming a Monitor at such a young age. But that is the incalculable chance of risk. I cannot help it if my pawn was flawed.

'As you should observe from the letterhead, I am now Deputy Controller of the entire Asian Plains Zone. I will not waste my promotion and gold buttons on your folly. Indeed, the contact your representatives made with me has already done severe, though hopefully not irreparable, damage to my good name. Please be informed that I will not hesitate to commit them to execution should they contact me again. This is your only warning. There is no reason for them to do so, since I do not wish to ever hear from you again. I have formally registered the severing of all ties with you. You have wasted your gifts and are a failure, and as such are unfit for all offices. You may not claim any services from me from the date of your receiving this notice. You are no longer a member of my family.

'I am saddened to inform you of the death of your mother. She became deceased six years ago. It was unadvisable to allow you this knowledge then, as it would have distracted you from your tasks. I have broken all ties with her family, of course. It was a mistake to be deceived by her outward appearance of conformity and docility. It is unfortunate that all the undesirable family traits of her flawed ancestors have chosen to descend on you. However, you should have the strength to realize the error of your ways and repent, although of course there is no redemption for you. You are as dead as your mother to all rightminded and dutiful citizens. I hope I fall into that category.

'I send you the heathen token inherited by your mother. I thank the Corporation that there were no more children to be tainted by her madness. Do what you will with it. I also send a message she wrote on her deathbed. I do not know what it is, nor do I wish to know, but I hope it will convey to you some sense of how far you have strayed from all that is good and proper.

'Jonas Hubert Parker,

Deputy Controller, Asian Plains Zone,

Lead Biochemist, Certified Agricultural Manipulator,

Gold Level Value' "

Merlin put down the letter. Arthur caught his shocked eyes and made another face.

"Cottia?" He reached out across the table and took both her hands. They were as cold as ice. She blinked once, slowly.

"I never liked him," she said conversationally, almost casually. "I think I shall return to the Other Side when I am stronger and kill him."

Arthur felt as if a red-hot needle had run up his spine and into his brain. The look on her face was eerily familiar. He had seen that frozen rage in his half-sister's eyes as she had claimed the throne of Camelot and forced their father to kneel before her.

She turned her attention to the box. Merlin could see that she was trembling now. She could barely hold the next letter. It was older, yellowed and creased, and written by hand. She read it through, and then passed it to him and looked thoughtfully into the box.

" 'My dear daughter,

'I am afraid that you alone are left to carry on our line. Your aunt has died childless, in what they say was an accident. I am dying now, and I fear that that is no accident either. But no matter. Do not seek revenge for me. I warn you now, do not ever trust your father. He is not the man I believed him to be. Many men are like that: double-faced, accomplished liars. Never believe their words. Always judge them by their actions.

'I miss you bitterly, and I wish I could have watched you grow up. But I know from our infrequent conversations that you are strong. Take up our name and go discover your destiny and your doom. They will be intertwined, as they have been for every member of our family. We die for those whom we love. I do not begrudge you my life. It is worth every last second.

'Wear our family crest with pride, my dear. I know you always thought it stuffy, but a real lineage and crest is a rare thing these days. Remember that love is a much stronger force than bitterness and hate. I pray that you will find someone who will teach you that. I love you more than anyone else, for you are the only light in this darkness. Goodbye, my princess. Never worry about what you will have become.

'Your mother, Vivie' "

Merlin took her hands as she reached towards him again. She looked lost, and terrified, and hurt. He got up and came to her, putting his arms around her and holding her close as she clung to him and cried.

A thought nagged at him. It was funny, how her mother phrased that. 'Your destiny and your doom'. He had heard those words before, spoken to him about what he would become to Morgana. Her again. She kept popping into his head. He'd barely given her a thought for hundreds of years, mostly because it hurt too much.

Arthur was watching them. He looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.

And the way she has of making her face go totally blank is just like how - oh, shut up, he said to his thoughts. There's no way. Absolutely no way! Morgana never had a child. She didn't have the time!

Cottia let go of his jacket and sniffed. She looked almost as embarrassed as Arthur. Merlin tried to look reassuring and sympathetic. "I think you can be allowed to be upset right now. After all, both your parents are basically dead."

Perhaps that wasn't the most tactful thing to say, but it seemed to reassure her. She rummaged around inside the box after scrubbing at her face with her sleeve. There was the rustling of paper and she drew out a silvery bracelet. Arthur glanced at it and suddenly came to attention.

It was about one and a half inches wide, made of a sheet of silver with decorated edges. It was not a full circle, but was designed to be slipped on over the wrist. An elaborate circular design was worked in gold in the middle. The design was a crest.

Arthur and Merlin both stared as she slipped it on. It was slightly too big for her, and slid a little as she moved her arm. She scowled. "It's still ugly, and I don't like how it feels." She shivered and took it off again, putting it back in the box. "I suppose I have to keep it, though, to give to my kids. I don't even want kids." She wandered off into her room, still grumbling.

"Shut up," Arthur hissed as Merlin looked wildly at him. He nodded violently.

0000

"It could just be a coincidence," Arthur argued as they searched through the musty books of heraldry. "It could have been stolen by one of her ancestors, or picked up off the battlefield."

Merlin shook his head stubbornly. "I don't think Morgana would have let it go."

"She wasn't even of that house!"

"She thought she was. Here." Merlin laid the book down on the table and pulled the candle closer. Geoffrey had closed the library up hours earlier and they were completely alone. "It is the crest of the house of Gorlois."

Arthur was still trying to make excuses. "Yeah, but that still doesn't prove . . . I mean, it's been hundreds of years. Her mother's family could have picked it up anywhere."

"It's definitely the bracelet Morgause gave to Morgana. She wouldn't have let it be taken by anyone other than one of her family."

"But Cottia's coloring is all wrong. She looks nothing like Morgana."

Merlin gazed unseeingly at the page. "No, it isn't. Morgana looked nothing like the rest of her family. Your father was fair, and so was Morgause. I'd bet anything that her mother Vivenne was too. Cottia has the right bone structure. It's there for everyone to see in her hands and her face. And - oh, how could I have been so stupid?"

"What?"

"She told me! She said that her mother's family passed down names, mostly for the girls, and they were always forms of Vivien and Morgan."

Arthur looked worried. "Well, so what if she is related to Morgana? She isn't Morgana. And we might be all wrong. Is there any way to see for sure? Would the druids know anything?"

"If she had had a child, it would be recorded. It would have been still a baby when she died at Camlann. I might be able to find something."

"It's worth a try, I suppose. It would settle the question of the succession."

"Cottia has all their mannerisms, too. The way Morgana could conceal all her emotions, and that way Morgause had of standing, sort of relaxed but very poised. And - what? Succession to what?"

Arthur closed the book with a thump and laid his hands on it. "Merlin, if she is indeed a descendant of Morgana, then she has a claim to the throne. If anything happens to Gwen after I am gone, Cottia will be my nearest blood relation if I do not have children. She's my niece. Of course, she'd have to prove it to the satisfaction of everyone concerned, and that will be difficult."

"But Morgana was illegitimate," Merlin protested.

"No matter. My father acknowledged her - not openly, but some of his most trusted advisors knew. She was a Pendragon. If Cottia is her granddaughter, then she has Pendragon blood and while she lives she is an heir to the throne. The laws are specific."

"Couldn't you fix them?"

Arthur looked exasperated. "That would make people wonder why I was fussing about it. Look, it's not like we even have proof beyond a few chance resemblances and a bracelet that could have easily been bought or stolen in the generations between them. It's not like we'd tell her even if we had solid proof." He looked up at Merlin, who was standing behind him holding tightly to the back of his chair. "Or should we?"

"No! She doesn't need to know now or ever. I really think we shouldn't tell her anything."

"Not now, anyway. Perhaps when she is older and more settled in -"

"She doesn't need to know!" Merlin repeated vehemently. "It'll just poison her mind like it did to Morgana."

Arthur sighed. "Maybe you're right. I'll talk it over with Guinevere. But absolutely no one apart from you and I and Gwen is to know anything about this. Don't let Cottia wear that bracelet, either. Someone might recognize the crest and start asking questions."

"I won't."

"Let me know immediately if you get some solid evidence either way of her ancestry. Thank goodness she doesn't have magic," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes," said Merlin. So that's why she's so powerful, he was thinking. That's why she heals so quickly. And that's one more reason why I know she is related to Morgana.

0000

Cottia was puzzled. Merlin was drawing away from her. He seemed to be uneasy in her company, and avoided it on the weakest of excuses. She was rather hurt. What had she done wrong? Was he just tired of having her always asking questions? Was he finally becoming embarrassed that he was always having to bring a girl along on otherwise exclusively male activities? Had she disappointed him somehow by showing emotion on learning of her mother's death?

There was a swirling void in her mind now. She had always kept the hope that one day she would have a family again in that space, and now it had collapsed. Merlin was the closest thing she had ever had to a real family. He was father and mother and brother to her all at once. Gwen was kind, and so was Percival, and Arthur and Leon were quite friendly to her when she was with them, but she felt safe with Merlin.

At least, she had felt safe. Now she didn't know how to feel. She was slowly being forced back into herself. The astonishing thing was that she had enjoyed being able to come out of her shell. It was dark and lonely back inside it. The void was becoming bigger and bigger. She tried to banish it by spending more time with Sophie, and with Sophie's family. She liked her older sister Jenny, who was slender and blond and incredibly dangerous with any weapon or no weapon at all. She said that she had been born to be a soldier, and she approached the world like it was a tactics exercise. Cottia was fascinated. She'd always looked on the world as a giant game. It was great to find someone with a similar approach.

Jenny and Sophie's aunt and uncle were nice people, too. Rose was cheerful and caring, with a warm heart and a sensitive conscience. The Doctor (why did everyone call him that? Did he have a name? No one seemed to know) was painfully similar to Merlin. He cared for everything and everyone, and seemed to have a limitless supply of knowledge about everything. Cottia could talk to both of them about anything, and they would listen and have a real, thoughtful, conversation with her. Both of them treated her as yet another daughter, who just happened to live away from home. She accepted their informal adoption happily, but it could not substitute for the bond she had thought she had had with Merlin, especially during the times when she wanted to talk about the things she had read in the Red Book, or about magic, or the nights when the storms roared overhead. He had always been there for her before. No matter what time of the night they came, she would get up and go out into the main room and find him there, making tea and lighting the lantern, and then they would curl up on the couch together, each in their own cocoon of blankets. He would read to her until the storm ended or she fell asleep, lulled by the sound of his voice. He was an amazing reader, and could do different voices for all the different characters.

But now she was alone in the dark when the storms came. The weather was warming slightly, and the snow was becoming slush. The thunderstorms came twice or three times a week, and every time they came she sat in her room alone and shivered, straining her ears to hear the floor creak and know that he had gotten up and was coming to check on her. But there was always silence, and for the first time in her life, she would cry from loneliness and fear and frustration. She had caught a glimpse of what life could be like without constant isolation. To be condemned to it again was misery.


	14. Chapter 14

Merlin watched his apprentice nervously. She was becoming more reserved, more accomplished at lying to him. He was doing his best to be cheerful and treat her normally, but it was hard when he could no longer see what she was thinking.

Now that he had received confirmation of her ancestry from the records the druids kept, he was doubly certain that Cottia needed to be watched and guided very carefully. Arthur had agreed with him. After all, she had shown great intellectual potential. She could be a useful ally or a dangerous enemy. Arthur had entrusted that task to his, Merlin's, hands. It had suddenly become a lot harder.

Well, perhaps he had drawn away from her a little. But he couldn't afford to be soft with her. She needed to know that he was her superior, and that her station in life was to serve. He was as kind about it as possible, of course, but he tried to discourage her from being quite so friendly with people who were above her in rank. He thought that on the whole, it was working. She had to learn to be humble, to always think of someone else instead of her wants. That would keep her from becoming so full of bitterness and pride. Arthur would be safe.

0000

"I haven't seen you around as often, miss," said a friendly voice. Cottia looked up from brushing burrs out of Goldberry's tail into Percival's face. He was smiling at her, and seemed genuinely glad to see her.

"I've been busy," she answered, smiling back warmly.

"The snow will be gone soon. Then all the green things will start springing up. I always like the spring. I think that's why it's called spring; because everything shoots up from the bare ground."

"I've never seen a real spring. I'm looking forward to it."

"Never? And how old are you? Eighteen?"

"Seventeen."

He nodded. "Ten years younger than me, then. What are you going to do? You don't seem like the kind of person who's cut out to be a servant for the rest of your life."

She shrugged. "I like it here. What else could I do, anyway? I'm not a noble and I don't want to go off and start a farm. That would be too cold and muddy."

"You could always marry a noble. That's one advantage to being a girl."

"Like who? There aren't many nobles looking for servant girls to marry. That kind of thing only happens in books."

"You could marry me."

Cottia put down the brush and stared at Percival. He was looking gravely back at her.

"I mean it," he continued. "I know I'm only a knight, and not a warlord or a prince or something impressive, but I do love you. I wasn't going to say anything so soon, but, well . . ."

"Why?" was the only response she could think of. She'd never even considered that someone would ask her to marry them.

"You are brave and thoughtful, and you stand up for what is right. You're a good person. And you are beautiful."

"Not really. I'm too thin and I've got freckles."

"You are beautiful to me," Percival said simply. "I am serious, Cottia. Would you marry me? I will do my best to make you happy."

She blinked. For some reason, she wanted to cry. "I like you, Percival, but I'm not ready to marry anyone yet. I don't know who I am or what I want."

"I understand." He looked glum. "I did not either, for a very long time."

"I won't forget that you asked me," she said quickly. "But I'm sure you'll find someone else."

He brightened up. "Well, if you ever change your mind, just tell me. I will wait." He nodded and left. She watched him go.

Goldberry shoved her head into Cottia's chest. She stroked the horse's nose distractedly. Percival wants to marry me? Sir Percival, one of the most powerful knights in the kingdom? What on earth for? I would be no help to him at all. It just wouldn't work.

A deep blush spread over her face. Even if she didn't want to marry him, it was oddly exhilarating to know that someone found her attractive. Had she done the right thing in turning him down? She would have been safe with him. But she did not think that she loved him. What was love, anyway? She wasn't sure anymore. Yes, she had done the right thing. And anyway, if she changed her mind, he had left his offer open.

0000

Cottia decided that she liked Faramir. She'd expected that he would be like his brother, but he wasn't. He was thoughtful and perceptive and wise. In some ways, he reminded her a lot of Merlin. Of course, she would never tell him that. She closed the book and got up.

"I just finished the second volume," she announced. Merlin looked up briefly and nodded.

"Shelob is creepy."

"I know. At least she's a spider. Serkets are worse."

"What are they?"

"Giant scorpions. They live in the forest."

"It's going to be spring soon. When are we going to go see the Crystal Cave?"

"I don't know." Merlin did not want to allow her within ten miles of the place. He was sure that she had the ability to use the crystals, but he did not want her to know that. What would she see in them? What would happen if they somehow told her who she really was? It might put everything he had ever worked for in danger.

"You promised," she said hopefully.

And there was the problem. He'd promised to take her, in a moment of weakness. How could he get around that? "Why don't we wait until spring? There are lots of wild strawberries in that part of the valley. You'd like them. Let's go when they're ripe."

"When will that be?"

"Two or three months. Around the middle of April, usually."

"Why is Faramir so different from Boromir?" was her next question. She was in an odd mood.

"What?"

"Faramir is a leader although he does not want to be, but Boromir wants to be a leader so much that he repels people after a while. How does that work?"

"I suppose it's because Faramir has a good heart," said Merlin after some intense thought. "He is motivated by love. The Ring couldn't turn that against him."

"It could have. Boromir loved Gondor, and that's why he tried to take it from Frodo."

"But he was afraid that it would fall and no longer be proud. Faramir didn't see the war with Sauron like that. He wasn't a proud person. He didn't care that Minas Tirith would no longer be looked up to as a mighty city. He cared for the soldiers and the civilians that would die when it fell."

"Faramir could see how the war would affect everyone in Middle-earth," Cottia said slowly. "Boromir only saw how it would affect Gondor?"

"Exactly. He wanted to save his city at any cost, so he thought of the Ring as the quickest and easiest way to achieve that end. It would have created a billion other problems, and Sauron still would not have been totally defeated, but it would have worked. It just would have turned Boromir into another Dark Lord. Faramir wanted to save Gondor - all of Gondor, her history as well as her present. He'd taken the time to learn about the old days, and he knew that there was no hope of defeating the Enemy with his own weapons. He understood that the Ring would try to corrupt him, and he was prepared."

"Is it actually possible to make a ring like the ones Sauron made?"

Merlin frowned. "Theoretically, yes. But you must understand that Sauron was a different species. He was one of the Maiar, a shapechanger and a being of energy. He could create whatever body he wanted, and he could literally put pieces of himself into other objects. That's why the Ring was so powerful. It was a little piece of him. Humans can't do that."

"It would be fun," Cottia said wistfully. "Not so much the lava pits and domination over lesser creatures, but being able to turn into animals and stuff."

"I imagine that it would feel very strange."

"I didn't like Boromir at first, but now I just feel sorry for him. He was in way over his head."

"He forgot that love should be stronger than the lure of power. Most villains who began as heroes make that mistake."

"Love for what?"

"The forgotten people. The ones who never get a say in anything. Someone has to stand up for them."

A distant memory stirred. "That's what Tiffany said."

"Who?"

"A girl in a story I read a long time ago. She became a witch to look after the people who had no voices."

"What happened to her afterwards?"

"I don't know. I only had one book about her. I think there were more, but I never got the chance to read them."

"I knew a girl who cared very much about those less fortunate than her. She was a kind person until she discovered how powerful she was. Then she became one of the cruelest tyrants the world has ever known. No one is immune from pride."

"I know," said Cottia.

0000

The pieces of cloth fluttered in the wind, making shadows dance on the ground beneath them. The trees rustled their new leaves. Someone was standing beside the old well, wrapped in a dark green cloak. It was so long that it nearly brushed the ground. She took a cautious step forward.

The person held out a hand. Now she could see the gleam of their eyes beneath the deep cowl of their hood.

"Hello, Freya."

Cottia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She was having that dream almost every night now. The person had never spoken to her before, though. She sat up. Wet spring rain was pelting against the windows. It was earlier than she usually woke up, but she could hear Merlin moving around in the next room and singing quietly to himself. She'd heard the tune before, but never the words.

" 'Night is now falling, so is this day.

'The road is now calling, and I must away

'Over hill, and under tree,

'Through lands where never light has shone,

'By silver streams that run down to the sea

'To these memories I will hold

'With your blessing I will go

'To turn at last to paths that lead home.

'And oh where the road then takes me

'I cannot tell.

'We came all this way, but now comes the day

'To bid you farewell.

'I bid you all a very fond farewell.' "

Cottia frowned. She recognized the last line. The floor squeaked under her feet. Merlin looked up.

"You're up early."

"Where is that song from?"

"Actually, it's from Arda. Pippin wrote it to say goodbye after Frodo was done with his quest. I think I have a recording of it somewhere. It's a favorite among the Elves."

"What's it called?"

"The Last Goodbye." He looked closely at her. "Are you all right? You look tired."

"It's just that stupid dream again. He spoke this time and it startled me."

"What dream?" Merlin's voice was sharp. Cottia blinked at him in sleepy surprise.

"A sort of nightmare about that creepy place we saw on the first patrol. The place with the rags tied all over on the trees."

"You dream about the druid camp?"

"Yeah."

"Who spoke? What did they say?"

"I don't know who it is. He wears a long cloak and a hood, and he just stands there next to the well. I only know he's a he now that he spoke."

"What did he say?"

"I can't remember," she lied. For some reason, she was unsettled by the expression in Merlin's eyes. It made her uneasy. He was looking at her like he was seeing someone else.

"It's probably not important," he said after a pause that was just too long. "Sometimes important events cast shadows in front of them, and people with magic notice them subconsciously and they come out in dreams. Your dream doesn't sound important, though."

"I think it's just because that camp was spooky," she said. She didn't tell him that she had first had the dream before seeing the camp in real life. So meeting the mysterious person by the well was important?

 **The quoted song is from the soundtrack to The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies.**


	15. Chapter 15

Percival had been right that spring was beautiful. The muddy slush of the thaw was giving way to carpets of green as the grass and trees began to put out new growth. Tiny flowers were appearing from nowhere, speckling the fields with white and blue and yellow like a second dusting of multicolored snow. Even the evergreen trees were turning a brighter shade of green as tufts of new needles appeared at the ends of their branches.

The King went out on an extended patrol to go around the complete circumference of the kingdom and see what damage the winter storms had done to the little castles and guard posts. Cottia stayed behind at the Queen's request. Guinevere enjoyed the girl's company.

Cottia spent some of her copious free time in the library. She wanted to know more about the druids, and Merlin would not tell her much about them. Most of what she found was in story form, and hard to verify, but she gathered that they were a secretive and generally peaceful community of people who had magic and believed that it could be used for the good of all. Most of the stories mentioned someone called Emrys, who was, apparently, immortal, unbelievably powerful, and the protector of the King of Camelot. Cottia was skeptical. Arthur didn't approve of magic, and she assumed that he would notice a sorcerer in his court.

One day as she was sitting at a table in the library, a boy dressed in the formal livery of the royal servants came up to her.

"Excuse me, miss, a girl called Sophie wants to meet you in the wood at the old guard tower."

"Really? Thanks."

The boy darted off. She and Sophie had been talking about getting together and taking a walk in the woods on a nice day, and she had told her to send a message when she had free time. Cottia had nothing to do for the rest of the day; the Queen was expecting Arthur to arrive back at any time. She'd go hang out with Sophie. It would keep her mind off things.

No one was in sight when she arrived at the decrepit old guard tower that overlooked the castle. As Cottia hesitated, frowning, someone clamped a piece of cloth over her mouth and nose, and everything went black.

She woke up sprawled in her chair in the library. She sprang to her feet and looked around wildly. Had she dreamed it all? There wasn't even mud on her shoes. The sun had gone down a little, and the library was filled with the honey glow of soft afternoon sunlight. Perhaps it had all been a dream. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, what with the pesky dream about the druid camp and . . . other worries.

She kept getting the feeling that everyone was standing a little way back from her in case she suddenly exploded. The King always kept an eye on her when she was in the room, and the Queen had developed an odd way of looking at her as though she was not quite what she had expected to see. And Merlin - he had gone cold. That was the only way to describe it. When she had first accepted his offer of an apprenticeship, he had been lovely to her, empathetic and gentle. Now he would not hold deep conversations with her, and he questioned her every time she was out for more than an hour or so, as if he suspected her of sneaking off to do something forbidden. Only Percival still showed her kindness, although it was tinged with wistfulness now, rather like a disappointed puppy. Sometimes she felt an overwhelming urge to pat him on the head, which was ridiculous, because he was six and a half feet tall and could probably carry both the King and Sir Leon. With one hand. And a horse.

The patrol had not returned by nightfall. Cottia tidied up the Queen's chambers and helped her out of her formal court gown and said goodnight. Then she went back to the empty room in the tower and sat staring out at the distant stars until she fell asleep. She did not even have the heart to pick up the Red Book. Pippin and Gandalf were on their way to Minas Tirith, Theoden and Aragorn were on their way back to Edoras, and Frodo was alive but taken by the Enemy - but somehow they hung there, frozen, and she could not bring herself to read on. They were hovering on the point of no return, and (she knew it was silly, but she could not help it), she felt that she was in much the same position.

Ironically, she slept better that night than she had for months, and no dreams came to disturb her peace.

0000

The Queen seemed sleepy in the morning, and decided to stay in her room instead of going for a walk as usual. Cottia wandered out and sat on the battlements in a little niche she had discovered high up among the crenellations. She could see nearly all the way to where the forest met the distant mountains from there.

She had been sitting there for at least two hours, with her battered copy of The Eagle of the Ninth clasped to her chest - she hadn't been reading it, just holding it, as if the paper and ink could substitute for the real person whose companionship she missed so bitterly - when a faint tingle of uneasiness began to creep across her mind. She looked down on the quiet town.

It was very quiet today. Usually, the blacksmiths and the cries of the people selling things made a sort of symphony in the background, but today they were all silent. The sudden cooing of a pigeon pecking along the stones near her made her jump. It was ages since she'd heard the clanking and jingling of the guards on the walls, too. And as she inhaled, the smell of smoke was much thinner than usual, and replaced by something more chemical and faintly sparkly. Something was definitely wrong. Cottia jumped down from her perch and ran along the eerily deserted corridors to find the Queen.

Guinevere was sitting at the desk in her bedroom, sprawled forward, her head cosily resting on an open ledger. Cottia shook her, shyly at first, but with increasing force. She resorted to trying magic to awaken her, but it had no effect. She wished then that she had learned a few spells from the illegible and stained books. She didn't know the right feeling to wake someone up.

0000

"That's funny," said Sir Leon. Percival glanced at him.

"What is?"

"No smoke. See?" Leon pointed over the tops of the trees towards the castle. Percival's brow furrowed.

"It might be a holiday," he suggested, but his voice held no conviction.

"What's the matter?" Arthur called. He and Merlin had been riding behind the other two. He had been working out the logistics of repairing a badly damaged guard post on the eastern border, and Merlin had been daydreaming.

"There doesn't appear to be any smoke coming up from the town, sire."

"You're right." Merlin was suddenly beside him, jerked out of his reverie. "Merlin?"

He shook his head and would not say a word, but his eyes were full of anxiety.

The guards at the gate were sprawled on the ground. Arthur slid down from the saddle and bent over them. "They're asleep!" he said. "I'd say dead drunk, but there isn't a hint of alcohol anywhere."

The four of them bunched together as they rode through the silent streets, their horses' hooves ringing loudly on the cobbles. When they reached the courtyard, there were guards asleep at their posts there, too, and courtiers and servants and knights, all slumbering where they had fallen.

Merlin tugged at Arthur's sleeve as they handed their horses to Percival. "Do you remember the Knights of Medhir?" he whispered.

Arthur looked grim. "Yes," he answered, drawing his sword. "Where's Guinevere?"

They ran up the stairs together. Arthur had sent Leon with Percival, to stable the horses and check on the other knights.

"She'd probably be in her room," Merlin called as Arthur turned towards the council chambers.

"Why? There's always a council at midday."

"Remember the last time? People felt sick before they fell asleep. I don't think they had time to hold a council.'

Arthur ran after him. "You think this is the same? I thought we got rid of the Knights."

"They didn't make everyone fall asleep. Morgause did that so they could get in easier. Someone could be trying the same thing again."

"You think this is sorcery?"

"Yes!"

"How do you know?"

"I just do!"

"Damn you, why won't you just tell me!" Arthur muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

They burst into Arthur's bedroon. Gwen was there, lying across the bed. Cottia sprang up from the chair by the desk as they came in.

"It's you! I was worried! What took you so long?"

"What's happening here?" Merlin demanded. Arthur looked up from checking on Gwen, startled.

"I don't know! She was tired this morning and didn't want to go out so I took a book and sat on the wall and then I noticed it was really quiet and then I came to check on her and there were people lying everywhere in the corridors and then she was asleep at her desk and I don't know what going on! Even Sophie and the rest of them are asleep, like they just fell down where they were standing!"

Merlin had gone white. Arthur, satisfied that Gwen was in no danger, went over to Cottia and looked closely at her. She stared back. He could see that she was frightened and bewildered and very grateful that they were with her, but apart from that - Either she was telling the truth or she was the best liar he had ever known.

"Why didn't you fall asleep?" he asked quietly.

"How should I know?"

He nodded. "Go down to the stables. Leon and Percival are there. Help them check on the other knights." His calm voice seemed to steady her, and she ran off. He turned to Merlin, who suddenly looked old and in pain. "What is it?"

"Not again," he said softly. "I can't bear to do it again. Please don't make me do it again."

"Do what? Merlin!"

He blinked and started. "Last time this happened, I had to . . ."

"How did you get Morgause to lift the enchantment? I came in when it was all over and she was escaping with Morgana as prisoner."

Merlin was holding on to the edge of the table now. "It's a very powerful sleeping spell, relatively easy to cast but hard to maintain without a living vessel within the area affected.

"A person?"

Merlin nodded.

"What happens to them?"

"Nothing. They just aren't affected."

Arthur's expression changed. "Cottia?"

"It has to be. And she must be the one who cast it in the first place."

"What? Don't be an idiot! How could she? She'd have to have magic."

"She does, Arthur. She's very powerful, nearly as powerful as Morgana at the height of her power."

"Why didn't you tell me? I needed to know this!"

"I'm sorry." Merlin was almost in tears. "I am fond of her. I thought she was better than this. I wanted to protect her."

Arthur looked around desperately. "Are you certain that it's her who is doing this? What if she's just being used? That's what happened to Morgana, after all. There are plenty of other sorcerers in the world who still blame me for my father's persecution."

"It would help if you repealed his prejudiced laws!" Merlin almost hissed at him. "You condemn innocent people to death for a talent - yes, a talent - that they have no choice but to possess. You can't choose how you're born. Magic is not automatically an evil force. Can't you see that?"

"Calm down," Arthur said placatingly. "You know I never agreed with my father's extremes. How did you stop Morgause before?"

"I - I - Only the person who put the enchantment in place can lift it. If someone else needs to, they have to - to get rid of the vessel. That automatically breaks it."

"We're going to have to kill someone to wake everyone up? See, that's why I don't care for magic, right there."

"It's not all like that! Those are the old ways, controlled as much by power-hungry maniacs as by the laws of magic. It shouldn't have to be like this."

Arthur blinked. "You still think Cottia is the vessel? We have to kill her if she refuses to lift the enchantment?"

"Yes," Merlin said miserably.

"I won't let that happen without proof. What proof do we need that she is innocent?"

"Someone else has to be here and awake. Then it could be either of them."

"Then we'd better get looking."

0000

The five of them ransacked the town and the castle. No one else was awake but themselves. Arthur pulled Merlin aside as they all headed back towards the great hall. They were beginning to feel the effects of the sleeping spell now, but Cottia was as unaffected as ever.

"Is that it, then?" he asked dully.

"Yes," Merlin said, his voice eerily devoid of any emotion. "That's it. I will ask her to lift it. If she will not - We need it gone, or we will succumb to it, too."

"How will you - ?" Arthur could not bring himself to finish the question. He was no stranger to death and killing, but that was always in fair fight or in justice. Cold-bloodedly ending Cottia's life repulsed him. There was a strange, mechanical look in Merlin's face. Arthur did not like it at all.

"I suppose the way I did before," he answered as though talking to himself. "It will be easier. She trusts me more."

"Is that how you convinced Morgause to lift the spell? What did you do to Morgana?"

"Poison. As soon as you left to hold the Knights off. I knew you didn't have much time. It was the only way. She looked so scared," he added. "I think that drove her over the edge. That's why she believed all the lies Morgause told her afterwards."

"Merlin -"

"I can do this. I want to do this. I won't kill her if there is any other way. Please?"

Arthur nodded, and touched Merlin's shoulder. "It's for the safety of the entire kingdom," she said, not quite believing that he was hearing his own voice. She was a child! How could they do this to her?

Merlin turned and ran after Cottia, not meeting Arthur's gaze.

0000

"Isn't there something you can do to wake then up?" Cottia was staring up at him, her wide eyes desperate and appealing. It can't be her, he thought, and the the little thoughts crept in: Morgana could look as innocent as anything. You can't trust her. But she's not Morgana! She's always been good.

"I can do nothing," Merlin said, stressing the 'I'. He looked intently at her. "You can."

"How?"

"I don't know. But since you caused this, you and only you can lift it."

"What? It's not me!"

"You're the only person unaffected. I've seen this kind of thing before. You're the vessel keeping the enchantment working. You have magic, and you're bright enough to work out that using someone else as a vessel is inconvenient and dangerous when you want to stay in the area. Why are you doing this? Revenge? For what? Haven't we been kind to you?"

"Yes! You all have! I don't understand." She sat down, still looking at him. "Why have you suddenly started suspecting me? What did I do?"

"You have inherited some . . . personality flaws that affect how you act. But it's not too late. You can still turn around and be a good person. Please, Cottia. I know you are good at heart. Don't let the bitterness consume you. Lift this enchantment and tell your allies the invasion is off."

"What invasion?"

"Don't play games with me!" Merlin looked angry now. There was a hardness behind his eyes that made Cottia suddenly very afraid of him. The softness and empathy was gone and in their place was pure ruthlessness and fury. "Lift it now!"

"I can't! I don't know how! I didn't cause it!"

She barely had time to realize that he had moved before he was standing behind her, forcing her to open her mouth and pouring something down her throat. She swallowed convulsively and spluttered, fighting back furiously. "What are you doing?"

He let go of her and moved back as she tried to claw at him. She blinked, catching hold of the back of the chair to steady herself. Things were suddenly going blurry, and she felt heavy. "What was that?" she muttered.

He caught her as her knees gave way and she slumped to the floor, struggling to breathe. He held her cradled against his shoulder, just as he had held Morgana so many years before. But Cottia was not fighting him, just staring up at him with a look of shocked confusion in her eyes.

"Merlin," she said questioningly. He stroked her hair, trying to calm her. Even if she had betrayed their trust, no one deserved to die alone and frightened. She was having trouble talking now as the poison took hold, but he just made out the words "Don't let go. Please?"

He held her tighter. He couldn't bear to look down at her anymore, and instead stared out the window at the sun and the clouds. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really am. But it's my destiny to protect Arthur, and I can't let anyone get in the way." She stirred slightly, reaching up to clutch at his shirt with one hand.

"Merlin," she said, the word barely more than a breath as she closed her eyes and relaxed into his arms.

0000

Arthur found him still sitting on the floor, holding her and staring out the window. Tears were pouring down his face. "It shouldn't be like this," he said incoherently. "Why do I always have to lose everyone I love?"

"Is she - ?"

"She's gone." Merlin picked her up and carried her into her room, placing her gently on her bed, still not looking directly at her. Arthur came over and picked up her wrist.

"Are you sure?'

"Leave her alone!" Merlin snapped.

Arthur put her hand gently down on the bed. She was dead. There was no doubt about it. An unpleasant jolt ran through him. "It wasn't her," he said hoarsely.

Merlin was standing beside the bed and didn't seem to hear him. "Merlin! It wasn't her that was the vessel."

"What? It must have been." He looked up fiercely. "It had to have been her."

"But we're still feeling sick."

Merlin stared stupidly at him. "But she wasn't affected."

"Can there be two vessels, then? Or some way of protecting someone? Because I'm not feeling any better, and -"

The clatter of horse hooves rang like trumpets in the silence. Arthur darted out of the room as fast as he could. Merlin followed more slowly. They both reached a place where they could look down into the courtyard.

Six horses had just trotted into the courtyard. Four of them were awkwardly ridden by soldiers from the Other Side. The remaining two were ridden by two smug-looking children, one a tall boy and the other a girl with violently red hair.

Arthur stared. "Who is that?"

"They used her. They wanted us to -" Arthur had never seen Merlin so angry. "They tricked me into killing her. They were jealous of her."

"Sir Roderick's children," Arthur said slowly. "Come on. We have to get down there." He turned, but Merlin was already gone.


	16. Chapter 16

Merlin stood at the window of Cottia's room, gazing fixedly out at the forest. It was red in the light of the setting sun. The sounds of battle still rang in his mind. It was so stupid. Stupid. Seven knights had died defending the castle from the insane plot of two adolescent brats.

It would have been a joke if it had not caused so much damage. Amelia and Nicholas had ridden in as if they owned the place and demanded Arthur's surrender. They had allies, of course, some strange little rebel faction from the Other Side. Amelia had been wearing a very unbecoming black velvet dress and had smugly proclaimed that she was a sorceress, so Arthur had better watch out. When he had refused to listen to them, she had thrown a clumsily constructed fireball at him. Merlin had had ample time to drag Arthur out of the way before it hit the steps and fizzled out, not even scorching the stone.

Then Leon and Percival had arrived, and had shot down the soldiers before they even had a chance to use their fancy weapons. In the confusion, a stray bolt had hit Amelia, and she had died instantly. Her brother had run away, the only surviving member of the little invasion. But he had come back about an hour later with a few hundred mercenaries from the Other Side and attempted to storm the castle anyway. By that time, everyone had woken up. Amelia's death had ended the enchantment. The little army was easily driven off. Camelot was safe.

But Cottia was dead. Merlin turned as Percival came quietly into the room.

"Arthur told me," he said forlornly. "He said Amelia killed her."

Merlin nodded.

"Will you take her to the lake? She deserves that."

"I don't know."

Percival nodded, and left.

She looked so peaceful. Merlin was reminded of the way Arthur had looked when he had put him into the boat and sent him to Avalon. It was time to do something with her. Percival was right; she deserved a burial in the lake with other knights and great ladies.

Or did she? She was neither a knight or a lady, but she had had magic. And he had made a promise.

0000

Merlin finished arranging her and stepped back, looking at her still body in the sparkling light of the torch. The crystals outside the door reflected the light into a thousand shades of color, and the air shone with a rainbow mist. He'd only been this deep into the Crystal Cave once before. There were tunnels and hewn rooms down here, and a stream that jumped from rock to rock and filled the air with crisp vapor. Many ancient sorcerers were buried down here - it was a mark of great respect and skill. The water and rock had covered their bodies in a shining layer of crystal, turning them into statues. In time, Cottia would join them.

He'd dressed her in the armor that had once been Morgana's, and placed her dagger by her side. The bracelet from her mother was on her arm. There was nothing else he could do. She had not had many possessions.

It was bitterly cold down in the depths of these caves, and the crystals shone with a remote light. As Merlin stood looking down at her, something glittered in the darkness by his feet. It was a tiny piece of crystal, worn through and broken off by the water and somehow carried up into this dry side cave. He picked it up. It was about the length of his finger.

"One last thing," he said to the echoing silence, and opened his hand again. He'd wanted to shape the crystal into a strawberry flower, in memory of his promise. What lay on his palm was a rose, its petals just ready to burst from the bud. There was even a tiny, embryonic, leaf and a thorn on the short stem. He smiled, and tucked the crystal flower into her folded hands.

"It's not a strawberry, but it will have to do." He hesitated. "I really am sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you. Would you ever have forgiven me, if you had the chance?"

He waited, but there was no answer. "Goodbye, Cottia," he said softly, and left the cave of light.

0000

"Are you all right?" Arthur was waiting for him at the entrance to the cave. Merlin was dimly surprised. He'd been alone when he came here. "Merlin?"

"I'm fine," he said, waving him away.

"Why did you bring her here?"

Merlin stared at the ground. The wild strawberries were carpeting it with green and white. "I promised her that I would."

Arthur gave him a compassionate glance. "You were fond of her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"I never worked it out. Was she used by that girl, or was she just framed?"

"I spoke to the gate guards. They say she went out to the forest yesterday and no one saw her come back in. I think Amelia lured her out there, cast the spell, and smuggled her back into the castle. Cottia didn't know what had happened. She just saw that people were falling asleep around her."

"But the spell didn't stop when she died."

"Amelia was here by then. Her presence kept it going. It only ceased with her death."

Arthur nodded. "Such a waste."

"Have you caught the boy?"

"He escaped. If we find him, he will be tried for treason and murder."

"Who did he kill?"

"He was an accomplice in Cottia's death. He may not have been the brains of the conspiracy, but he was part of it."

"But he never touched her. It was me. Why aren't you blaming me?"

"Did you want to kill her?"

"No! I never wanted to hurt her. I wish it had been me. Why does this always happen?"

Arthur took Merlin's arm and guided him as he stumbled. He could feel him trembling. "What always happens?"

"Everyone I trust, everyone I care for - they always die. You, Lancelot, Gwaine, Cottia, Morgana, Mordred, Gaius . . . Why is there so much death?"

"You trusted Mordred? You told me to shoot him when we first met him."

"I thought he'd changed, that he understood the big picture now that he'd grown up. We had a truce. We could have been friends."

Arthur caught Merlin as he nearly fell. It was dark now, so dark they could barely see where they were putting their feet. "I do wonder sometimes what this is all for," he admitted. "I mean, Albion has never come about, and now there's less chance of it than ever. All the little kingdoms around us are fighting like cats and dogs, and there is nothing beyond them except the Other Side."

"I did fail," Merlin said dismally. "I should have known it was Mordred I had to stop. I did know, and I still got distracted."

"Merlin, you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened in a battle hundreds of years ago. It's over now."

"Yes, it's all over. I had my chance and I failed. Just like Nimueh," he added as an afterthought. "She had her chance to lead her people out of obscurity and fear, and she failed. And now I've done the same. I understand the Fisher King now."

Merlin seemed to be talking nonsense to Arthur. "The Fisher King died hundreds of years before either of us were born."

"He was still alive when you went to find his trident. I spoke to him. He gave me a gift, and then he died because he knew his last obligation was fulfilled. But he said that he had longed for death for many years because there was nothing left for him in this world."

When they reached the castle, Arthur had to carry Merlin up the stairs to his chambers. Gwen was waiting for them.

"He's really upset," she whispered, looking down at Merlin. Arthur had laid him on his bed.

"I know. I think he was more than half in love with her."

Gwen swallowed hard. "She was a sweet girl. There wasn't any malice in her, no matter what we thought might happen."

Arthur gave her a skeptical glance. "She was as prickly as a hedgehog."

"Once you got past the prickles, then. And really, we can't blame her for being cautious. She had an awful life."

"I hope she was happy here, even if it was only for a few months."

"I think she was." Gwen helped Arthur unbuckle his armor. "You should stay with him," she said.

"I know. I'm going to."

She set his sword down on the table and caught his gaze. "Do you remember what we were talking about the other day?"

"Yes."

"I think it is a very good idea. He's always been there for you. He's made you the king you are. No one would risk more for you than Merlin. He deserves something in return."

"I know, Guinevere. But would he accept it?"

"It depends on how you ask him. I think it would make him happy."

Arthur took Gwen's hands. "Now that Cottia is dead, I have no living relatives."

"We'll have a child someday, Arthur. We just have to be patient."

"I will be much happier knowing that if anything happens to us, my son and my kingdom will be in Merlin's hands." He turned to look at his sleeping friend. "You proved that a Queen does not have to come from a noble family. He will prove that the ties of friendship can be closer than blood."


	17. Chapter 17

Merlin dreamed.

He dreamt of Arthur, fighting in front of the castle gates. The golden runes on Excalibur's sides caught the light. Arthur was alone, separated from his knights by a sea of green-clad enemy soldiers. Merlin leaned over the battlements above him. I should be with him.

No. Arthur was not alone. Someone else was fighting beside him. They were back to back. Every time Arthur was in danger of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers, the person threw their opponents back. Every time Arthur wanted to advance, the person cleared a path. He was holding a sword, but he was not using it. Instead, a light was burning in the palm of his hand.

Someone else had magic. Someone else was using it for Arthur. Merlin knew what that meant. His time was over.

He shook his head, violently enough to make Arthur, sitting in a chair by his bed, lean over and put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

Merlin felt the touch, and his dream changed.

A little girl, with coffee-colored skin and a shock of curly white-blond hair, was playing in a big sunny room. Another child, a baby, similar in coloring but with darker blond hair, was sleeping in a cot not far away. He had a vague impression of people watching them from the far side of the room.

Another little girl, younger than the first, was sitting half-hidden in shadow by the cot. She had very fair skin and very black hair, and she was holding a book on her lap, but she was not reading. She was watching the other girl. After a few seconds she looked up, and caught Merlin's gaze. She gave him a little half-smile.

Arthur caught Merlin as he nearly fell off the bed. "It's all right. Easy now."

Merlin stared up at him as though he had never seen him before. "Are you sure she was dead?"

"Yes. Quite sure. She was cold."

Merlin turned over and buried his face in his pillow. Arthur reached out and ruffled his hair nervously.

"Go back to sleep."

"What would you do with me if I wasn't important to you anymore?" His words were almost completely smothered by the pillow.

"What? Don't be ridiculous. That's never going to happen."

"It will."

"Don't be stupid. You're my friend."

0000

In Merlin's dream, the smiling girl held out her arms to him. He picked her up.

Fastened around her neck with a black cord was a delicate crystal rosebud.

—

 **The continuation of this story is called The Crystal Rose and I will start posting it right away. Thanks for reading! I hope you have gotten half the fun from reading this as I did from writing it.**


End file.
